


Touching

by beautifulterriblequeen



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ethari gets headaches, Ethari tops once in a blue moon, Fade to Black, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff without Plot, Huddle together for warmth, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Overstimulation, Romantic Fluff, Runaan loves poetry, Runaan's a bit toppy, Runaari, Sensuality, Sweet, Touching, Touchy-Feely, and almost nothing happens, bit of a hair kink, but also shy, but it happens very intensely, chapter with no dialogue, elves in corsets, grab that bedpost, i'm only happy if you're happy, pretty hair, shirts who needs shirts, soft sweet boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2020-09-23 04:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20334214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifulterriblequeen/pseuds/beautifulterriblequeen
Summary: May I offer you some fluffy Runaari touches in this trying time?





	1. In the Shop

**Author's Note:**

> So when I get one of my really bad migraines, I think of stuff to distract me. This time, I typed it out with my eyes shut. I left this chaptered because eventually I'll get another bad migraine, and maybe I'll write another Runaari fluff piece to distract me then, too.
> 
> Art by ChocoChick on tumblr, who read the paragraph describing Runaan. Just that paragraph. And drew him. Guess I did okay? He fab.

Ethari yanked his shirt off in irritation and crumpled the fabric, staring down at the acid burn he’d just made on it, front and center, right where everyone would be able to see it. _I’m such a klutz. Come on, hands! I’ve got customers to delude into thinking I’m competent here!_

He hadn’t been wearing his forge-sleeves for the etching work, since they only protected against heat and he hadn’t wanted to risk spilling acid on the protective rune. _So of course, I spilled acid on my good shirt instead._

Ethari let go of his internal rant, though, when he remembered why he’d been wearing that good shirt in the first place: he was expecting a special guest shortly.

Special to Ethari, that is. He hadn’t quite gotten the courage to say how he felt out loud yet. But Runaan was an eerily perceptive elf. When he came by the shop, he’d study Ethari for several seconds without speaking, wearing that pouty serious expression of his while his bright turquoise eyes seemed to drill straight into Ethari’s breathless soul. Ethari suspected there was a good chance the assassin was at least somewhat aware of Ethari’s feelings for him.

_But he’s not here yet. And I still need a new shirt. And I should tidy up the shop a bit—_

Thrown off by his own eager anticipation, Ethari tried to do two things at once and ended up heading from his work area to the main shop with his acid-scarred shirt still wadded in one hand. A quick glance told him the coast was clear—no Runaan, no other customers—so he tossed his burnt shirt over his shoulder and began to tidy up, arranging his shining wares, straightening display stands—

A pale shadow moved in the corner of his eye, slowly and deliberately. Ethari’s adrenaline shot up, and he turned sharply.

High cheekbones supported a pair of dark blue nose stripes beneath blazing turquoise eyes, in a face framed by soft white side tails bound in silver cuffs. Dark horns kinked above the elf’s head, similarly cuffed in hammered silver. Long, slender arms sloped from broad, powerful shoulders. His visitor’s wiry body was tightly encased in navy and teal, and legs that had no business being that long met the floor in a pair of thigh-high leather boots.

Runaan was already in the shop. Had been in the shop the whole time. He’d been lurking in a shadowy corner next to a rack of swords and Ethari’s gaze had simply slid right past him. The realization was both alarming and impressive, and Ethari’s heart rate leapt. _I was specifically looking for him, and I still didn’t see him. How does he do that?_

“Runaan! I… didn’t see you there. I didn’t expect you for another half an hour. I’m…” Ethari felt the weight of the taller elf’s gemstone gaze and suddenly became very aware that he was standing bare-chested in front of him. “I spilled acid on my shirt,” he finished lamely.

“You’re not hurt?”

“Just the shirt. And my pride.”

Runaan stalked forward with slow deliberation, his catlike grace silencing his footsteps. “Let me see.”

Ethari swallowed hard. How foolish he must seem. A craftsman who couldn’t even keep himself tidy, bumbling around his own shop in a state of half-undress like it was his private bedroom instead of his place of business. He dropped his eyes as he pulled the ruined shirt from his shoulder and wordlessly held it out to the assassin.

Runaan’s piercing eyes dropped to the proffered item, then returned to Ethari’s face. Slowly, he reached out a gloved hand and accepted the shirt. Then his arm pivoted smoothly to the side. He dropped it to the middle of the shop floor without looking.

The assassin’s eyes danced across Ethari’s exposed skin. “I didn’t mean the shirt.”

Ethari gasped through his nose and felt a hard rush of blood to his cheeks. _Oh_.

Runaan stepped closer, but just as Ethari took in a second gasp of anticipation, Runaan tipped his horns with a smile and sidestepped him, beginning a slow measured circuit around him. The room suddenly seemed very hot, and Ethari became very aware of just how fast he was breathing. How his inhalations lifted his shoulders and expanded his chest. He could feel the hot weight of Runaan’s gaze like a sunbeam through a lens as it trailed across the circular lavender markings on his shoulder and began to scorch its way across his back.

Ethari didn’t dare move. He had no idea what was happening, but he was very intent on not interrupting it. As the assassin circled slowly behind him, Ethari swore he could feel Runaan’s body heat radiating against his bare back. The fact that he had no idea how close Runaan was to him—Ethari couldn’t pick up a single sound from the assassin’s movements—was doing his heart rate no favors. _Or all the favors._

After what seemed like hours of delicious suspense, Ethari finally caught sight of Runaan out of the corner of his eye again. The assassin padded silently back around and stood in front of him, wearing an expression of frank admiration.

Runaan’s eyes dropped to the thick planes of muscle that covered Ethari’s chest from his endless hours in the forge. When he finally spoke, his voice brushed against Ethari’s ears like black velvet. “You’re very dedicated to your work.”

Ethari parsed the Moonshadow compliment and dropped his eyes. A small smile tugged at his mouth. “Thank you. I enjoy it very much.”

Runaan’s voice softened further. “It shows,” he breathed.

Ethari’s skin danced with tingles, and his horns sparked with cool delight. He met Runaan’s eyes again and saw in them a molten heat that belied his ramrod-straight spine and formal posture. The assassin respected Ethari’s personal space too much to simply intrude. But he _wanted_ to.

Ethari wanted him to intrude, too. “Give me your hand.”

Runaan raised an inquiring white brow, but he offered his left hand. Ethari turned it in his grip and unfastened the bindings on Runaan’s leather gauntlet with deft fingers, gently stripping it and its accompanying black glove from the assassin’s arm. He held out his hands expectantly for Runaan’s right hand and received it with no further hesitation. In moments, it too was freed of its protective gear.

He held Runaan’s gloves and gauntlets in one hand, swung his arm out to the side, and dropped them on the floor next to his burnt shirt.

Runaan’s eyes flicked down to where they landed. They returned to Ethari’s face, insistent, pulsing with intensity.

Ethari held out his hands again, palms up. Runaan’s eyes glittered for another long moment as he seemed to sieve Ethari’s soul. Then the assassin moved, as smoothly as if he’d always been in motion, resting the backs of his bare hands in Ethari’s palms. Runaan’s hands were warm and strong, his slender fingers bearing a kind of deadly delicacy. Ethari found them fascinating. Runaan hadn’t given him the full weight of his hands, either, still holding back, ready to withdraw if he needed to.

Ethari didn’t want Runaan to withdraw.

“Touch me. It’s okay.” He stepped just close enough for Runaan to reach him and placed the assassin’s warm hands on his bare shoulders, pressing those long, artistic fingers around the top curves of his deltoid muscles. Directing Runaan’s hands made Ethari’s shoulders flex, and Runaan’s sharply indrawn breath paired nicely with his widening eyes.

_Oh._

Ethari pressed harder against Runaan’s hands, then he lifted his free and stood still, barely able to hold Runaan’s burning gaze. His whole body sang with the rhythm of his own heartbeat.

Runaan stared at him as if he were a glorious mystery, but his hands remained in place atop Ethari’s shoulders.

Ethari cupped Runaan’s elbows, pressing so the assassin’s hands never lifted away from Ethari’s shoulders as he stepped closer still. He let his thumbs graze the sides of Runaan’s muscular arms. “Runaan. I want you to.”

The assassin’s expression shifted subtly, and Ethari finally understood what it was like to be lit on fire by the heat of another’s gaze. Runaan’s hands slowly ghosted across Ethari’s skin, tracing the hard edges of his forge-earned musculature with fingers callused from decades of archery, leaving lines of delicate tingles everywhere they touched. Those glorious fingers traced the caps of his deltoids and danced the rising planes of his trapezius. Runaan’s hands cupped the back of Ethari’s neck, and his thumbs encouraged Ethari’s jaw to tilt up so their eyes could meet more directly. The assassin’s eyes searched his face more deeply than Ethari had ever experienced, but the craftsman poured everything he was feeling into his expression, knowing Runaan would read it there.

Runaan did. His warm, callused fingers trailed lightly down Ethari’s throat, down the front of his chest, splaying wide across the hard planes of muscle he found there. Ethari shivered under Runaan’s light touch, inhaling, and his chest rose to meet Runaan’s touch, inviting a firmer contact. His hands fell away from Runaan’s arms, and he stood helplessly lost in the sensation of the assassin’s masterful hands. The pad of Runaan’s thumb trailed along the lower curve of one of Ethari’s pecs, while his other thumb lightly brushed across a taut nipple, causing Ethari to gasp and arch his back.

Ethari’s involuntary reaction drew one from Runaan as well. The assassin hummed in soft appreciation deep in his chest, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Ethari’s chin lifted, and his eyes rolled shut. His mouth fell open softly as Runaan’s fingers continued to explore his exposed skin, tracing lightly over his ribs, along his intercostal muscles, and down the tense cables of his abdominals. Further soft sounds began to escape Ethari’s mouth as Runaan’s hands slowly made their way to Ethari’s back. The assassin stood so close now that Ethari could definitely feel his body heat radiating against his bare chest. Runaan leaned in toward his ear as if to whisper, but said nothing, breathing through a smile, letting his proximity excite Ethari further, filling his ear with gentle hums as the soft fire of his fingers drew sharp breaths and quiet gasps from Ethari’s lips.

A teasing brush up Ethari’s spine. “Mmm?”

“A-aah…”

Callused fingers dancing along the bright lines circling his biceps. “Hmm…?”

“Ghhh—”

Pressing against the top curve of his hip bones. “Mmnn.”

“Hhh—Ahh!”

At some point, Ethari’s hands found Runaan’s arms again and held on tightly, more for stability than out of any attempt to guide or restrain him. Their wordless voices danced quietly in the empty shop as Runaan held Ethari in the circle of his arms and drew delighted noises from his throat with every soft, deliberate caress.

Finally, Runaan’s warm hands worked their way back to cup Ethari’s face, and he pulled back to find Ethari’s eyes shut.

“Open your eyes, Ethari. There’s nothing to fear. Do you not feel safe with me?”

Ethari dragged his eyes open and focused on Runaan, mere inches from his face. His breathing was delightfully unsteady as he replied, “I-I’m not sure I _want_ to feel safe with you.”

That brought a genuine smile to Runaan’s lips. “You’re as safe with me as you’d like to be.”

Breathless and riding the biggest contact high of his life, Ethari whispered, “Then kiss me, Runaan. I _need_ you to kiss me.”

Runaan’s smile broadened further. “As you wish.” His full lips captured Ethari’s in a soft rush of sensation, and Ethari’s arms wound around Runaan’s neck. Runaan pulled Ethari hard against him, tangling one hand in his thick mop of hair as he tasted the sweetness of Ethari’s mouth.

The soft noises they made together formed a secret duet that left Ethari light-headed when Runaan finally let him breathe again. His hands shook, his knees trembled, and he had to lean into Runaan’s embrace for support. “Don’t let me fall,” he murmured. “I’m a little wobbly.”

“I’ve got you.”

Something in Runaan’s voice made Ethari seek out that blazing turquoise gaze again. Part reassurance, part acceptance, part promise, and part delicious threat, the assassin’s simple phrase wove itself through Ethari’s mind and tangled around his heart.

“You really do, Runaan.” Ethari’s heart teetered on the edge for one final moment before plummeting into those turquoise depths. Anything Runaan wanted, Ethari would eagerly give him. He knew it. And he knew Runaan knew it, too. “…Please, don’t…”

“I won’t,” Runaan said, when Ethari couldn’t find the words.. “You’re too precious to treat lightly, Ethari. I’d never take advantage of you.”

The assassin’s perceptiveness shook Ethari once again, but in the best way, and his arms tightened around Runaan’s neck. He’d never felt safer in his life than he did in that moment, in the arms of a beautiful assassin. “In that case… you’d better kiss me again.”


	2. At the Waterfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan’s mouth found Ethari's ear and breathed a hot smile across its lavender-painted point. “Fall with me.”  
Ethari's breathing sped to a series of soft pants as Runaan’s powerful aura of skill and control enveloped him once again. “I guess we’re both crazy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who had another migraine? *points thumbs at own chest* A-this girl. Y'welcome, I guess? I know I found this story very diverting. Enjoy.

“Fall with me.”

Ethari eyed the distance down to the dancing pool below with a disbelieving gasp of a laugh. Sunlight dappled through the trees that ringed the waterfall’s cauldron. Trailed its fingers down the water’s long white mane. Flickered across the blue lagoon at its base. The rush of the falls rose on swirling mist and reached Ethari’s ears. Faintly. “Runaan, are you crazy?”

Clad in only his trousers, his other clothing in a tidy pile next to Ethari’s, Runaan stepped close and trailed his fingers up Ethari’s dark, bare arm, raising cool prickles with his touch. His warm palm clasped Ethari’s shoulder with strong fingers. Ethari inhaled with slow ecstasy as Runaan leaned close enough to radiate body heat from his bare chest against Ethari’s unclothed back. His lips fell soft and warm against Ethari’s other shoulder and pressed a humming kiss that made Ethari arch against him with a soft, needy breath.

Runaan’s other arm snaked around his waist, his thumb sliding just inside Ethari’s waistband, all the way around to his far hipbone, until the assassin snugged Ethari tightly against him. Touching so much of Runaan’s warm, taut skin at once dragged another uneven gasp from Ethari’s lips.

Runaan’s mouth found Ethari’s ear and breathed a hot smile across its lavender-painted point. “Fall with me.”

Ethari’s breathing sped to a series of soft pants as Runaan’s powerful aura of skill and control enveloped him once again. “I guess we’re both crazy.”

“Probably.” Runaan’s arm slipped free and his fingers tangled in Ethari’s. That inexorable pull Ethari always felt around Runaan became literal as the assassin drew him toward the very edge of the cliff. He turned and took Ethari’s other hand in his, smiling down at him, turquoise eyes molten with life and passion and love.

Runaan loved many things, but two above all: life and death. And the line between them was where he thrived, body and soul. The banked fire of his intent flared bright, lighting his face from within, and Ethari utterly melted for him. This was Runaan’s very heart. Love and risk, life and death, and the ever elusive line that both separated and connected them.

Overwhelmed by the sheer magnetism of the beautiful assassin, Ethari took Runaan’s face in his hands and kissed him hard.

Runaan responded with a soft moan and a hot tongue, and Ethari felt his world tilt off its axis. Wind and spray danced around them. Runaan broke the kiss halfway down, holding Ethari’s hands tightly, laughing, his white hair long and wild.

They took the plunge together. Came up together. Laughing, splashing.

Ethari swam close and pulled a long wet lock of hair from Runaan’s eyes. “There you are.”

“You found me.” Runaan pulled him close as they floated, until their skin snugged tight, pressing the coolness of the water away with the warmth of their bodies. The current gently set them adrift. The world spun slowly, a high stone cauldron full of roaring water and swirling mist, lapping currents and dancing light. And each other.

At the edge of the waterfall’s pool, they waded ashore, hands locked in a wet embrace, feeling worn pebbles mutter beneath their bare footsteps. Ethari shivered hard in the cool air.

Runaan pointed to a flat rock in a patch of hot sun. “Let’s warm you up.” With his hands on Ethari’s shoulders, he walked them both to the dark slab and sat Ethari on the edge of it. The sun-soaked warmth quickly seeped into his trousers, bringing a surprised smile to Ethari’s lips.

Runaan crouched in front of him, hands on Ethari’s knees, eyes wide and intense as they roamed Ethari’s bare skin.

“Runaan?”

‘You’re too wet.” Runaan lifted one of Ethari’s hands and kissed away a drop of water from his skin, never letting his eyes leave Ethari’s. “Better dry you off.”

Ethari’s breath escaped in a thrilled whimper, and Runaan’s lips broadened into a rich smile. “Keep your eyes on me, Ethari.”

“Mmhmm,” Ethari managed. Runaan was already lowering that glorious white head and kissing his way up Ethari’s arm. Humming softly against his pebbled skin. Warm fingers soothing away Ethari’s trembles. He took his slow, deliberate time, pinpointing every drop of water and claiming it with gentle kisses.

Ethari’s breathing had become truly erratic by the time Runaan’s lips reached his shoulder. At some point—Ethari couldn’t have said when—he’d parted his knees and let Runaan inch closer, and now the assassin knelt right in front of him, raising his head, tipping back those kinked horns, and pinning Ethari with that gemstone gaze he adored.

Somehow, the kiss still managed to catch him off guard. His soft cry of surprise danced across Runaan’s tongue, lost in the heat of the assassin’s mouth. Ethari tasted Runaan’s eager sweetness mixed with the sensation of his own skin. The heady realization that Runaan loved tasting him knocked Ethari’s balance out from under him, and he clung to Runaan’s shoulders, lest he topple over. Again.

Runaan’s strong arms encircled him, holding him safely. Tightly against Runaan’s chest. “I have you,” he murmured. His tongue liberated a water drop from Ethari’s ear lobe, and his lips suckled it for a moment, releasing it with a soft pop.

Ethari could only pant helplessly, arching against Runaan’s mouth. “S-still too wet,” he finally managed.

“Indeed you are.” Runaan’s teeth grazed the lower edge of Ethari’s jaw in a nippy kiss, and then he pulled back, letting cool air flow between them, chilling and pebbling Ethari’s skin.

Ethari shivered, sucking air through his teeth. Runaan’s gaze fell to his damp chest, slicked with water drops, his nipples tight with cold, and slowly, deliberately ignored it, lifting Ethari’s other hand to his lips instead.

Ethari’s eyebrows shot up, and he bit his lip hard, letting out a frustrated breath.

Runaan lowered his head and began kissing away water drops from Ethari’s other arm, but Ethari felt the slight vibrations of his laughter against his skin.

“You’re enjoying this.” Half-accusatory.

“You’re not?” Said between kisses to the inside of his elbow. The second kiss offered a flick of hot tongue in Ethari’s elbow crease, making him twitch and gasp. “Mmmm. Is that your answer?”

Ethari could barely see, his heart was pounding so hard, filling his ears as loudly as the crashing waterfall across the pool. “Do that again and find out.”

Runaan’s bright eyes flashed up at him. Without breaking eye contact, he flicked his tongue out and dragged it hot and hard across the sensitive inner edge of Ethari’s bicep.

Ethari’s gasp caught in his throat before ripping free, louder than he’d intended. His free hand clutched at Runaan’s long wet ponytail.

Runaan’s eyes flicked back toward Ethari’s unsteady grip in his hair. “Mmm, I thought so.”

“I-I… Runaan…”

“Hold on, then.” Runaan’s voice was soft, reassuring.

Ethari’s fingers stretched into Runaan’s braid, seeking purchase, and held fast, squeezing water loose. Runaan’s lips returned to their duty, kissing away the last trembling drops of water from Ethari’s shoulder. He kissed his way across to Ethari’s neck, nuzzling softly, humming happily. Ethari’s hand tightened in Runaan’s braid, and his chest heaved with hot, eager breaths, feeling Runaan’s radiant warmth so close once again.

The water that Ethari’s hand freed from Runaan’s hair trickled across the assassin’s neck and fell in warm drops across Ethari’s own chest. He drew back in instinctive surprise, looking down.

“You’re too wet, Runaan. Your hair’s sopping. Let me help.”

Runaan pressed his cheek against Ethari’s, their markings touching, and breathed in slowly, as if inhaling Ethari’s scent. “Right here?”

“For a start. Hold still.” Ethari’s fingers still trembled, but he delicately slipped Runaan’s hair cuffs free and set them aside. He squeezed as much water from Runaan’s long, thick hair as he could before attempting to unravel the short braided section. As his fingers worked through Runaan’s wet hair, the assassin knelt perfectly still, his hands coming to rest softly on Ethari’s hips, his breathing slowing.

“Runaan.”

The assassin had closed his eyes, drifted away under Ethari’s soft touches. He opened them back up, looking entirely content, but his gaze sharpened as he found Ethari’s eyes on him. “Yes, Ethari.”

“Sit up here. I need a better angle.” Ethari rose, and Runaan rose with him, trading places.

As Runaan sat on the edge of the warm stone slab, Ethari located a smooth stone the size of his fist and set it to the side atop the bigger rock.

Runaan eyed it. Said nothing. Studied Ethari with a lurking smile on his lips. When Ethari moved close against him and rested a hand on his shoulder, Runaan instinctively steadied him with a hand on one hip.

“I interrupted,” Ethari offered. “That was rude of me. But if I sit here,” he said softly, sliding astride Runaan’s lap, “we can both keep doing what we were doing.”

Runaan’s eyes flared like hot blue suns, and his hands helped settle Ethari against him, firmly snugging their hips together. “You’re entirely forgiven, Ethari.”

“And your generosity is appreciated.” Ethari’s hands found their way into Runaan’s hair, sifting and separating its soft strands. Runaan’s mouth dipped to kiss its way across Ethari’s chest, sipping at stray water drops, replacing them with heated kisses that made it nearly impossible for Ethari to do much more than hold on tightly. Which Runaan seemed to enjoy very much, if the intensity of his humming against Ethari’s chilled skin was any indication.

Runaan leaned Ethari back in his arms.

“Nnnhh…”

Ethari’s fingers knotted in Runaan’s long hair.

“Mmmhh.”

Runaan’s callused thumb traced a sharp line beneath one of Ethari’s pecs.

“Ahgods…”

Ethari’s hands tugged hard against Runaan’s scalp.

“Hhhnn.”

Runaan’s lips claimed a nipple, lavishing it with warm, firm attention.

“A-ahh!” Ethari’s soft cry brought Runaan’s arms tightly around him, pressing him against the assassin’s hot mouth. Ethari was bent back at such an angle that he had to cling to Runaan’s hair for balance. That brought a deep growl up from the depths of Runaan’s chest. It vibrated through Ethari with a combination of terror and delight. The edge of the cliff teetered in his mind’s eye.

_This elf is going to kill me. He’s going to kill me and I’ll let him._

“Ethari?”

Runaan’s voice, soft and questioning, brought Ethari back from the edge of ecstatic despair.

“Are you all right, Ethari?” Runaan lifted him back up until they were balanced again, Ethari trembling astride his lap.

Ethari’s hands slid out of Runaan’s long damp hair and rested on his shoulders. They were shaking. He couldn’t stop them. Didn’t want to. “You know you have me, Runaan.”

“I know.” The simple statement should’ve terrified Ethari, but the way Runaan said it, so soft and gentle, reassured him instead. “Too much?”

“You’re a lot,” Ethari offered with a shaky smile.

“I know that, too. Are you warm enough? We can stop.”

_Warm?_ Ethari had entirely forgotten why Runaan had started kissing his skin in the first place. “You’ve definitely warmed me up. But that doesn’t mean I want to stop entirely.”

Runaan’s eyes widened, pleased. They slid to the smooth rock Ethari had set just within reach beside them.

Ethari grinned. With one hand, he fetched the smooth stone, and with the other, he lifted Runaan’s hair from the nape of his neck. “Lie back.”

Runaan flexed tight and lowered himself down to the warm, dark stone, holding Ethari’s gaze the whole way down. Ethari leaned over him as he did so, and tucked the smooth rock pillow behind his head, just high enough to keep his horns from scraping.

Ethari smiled, pleased at his choice of pillow. “There. Perfect.”

A short laugh tightened Runaan’s abdominal muscles. “You’ve been staring at my horns.”

“Among other things. You’re very stare-worthy.” Ethari leaned forward onto a hand and stared down into Runaan’s deep liquid eyes. “I just need to catch my breath. You keep stealing it. So I’m going to lay out your hair and let it dry.”

Runaan’s white brows lifted in pleased surprise. “That doesn’t sound like it’ll take very long.”

Ethari offered him a _just-you-wait_ look. “Never tell a craftsman how long his work will take.”

Runaan hummed interestedly. “I’ll remember that.”

Ethari leaned down and kissed him. Soft, slow, gently, feeling those smooth, plump lips moving against his own. Knowing Runaan had depths into which he could dive and never resurface. In which he would happily drown and lose himself. Knowing that if he did so, Runaan would feel endlessly guilty.

Ethari broke the kiss. He could always drown later.

Rising onto his knees and one hand, he leaned up over Runaan and began teasing out one long white lock of his hair. He laid it out to the side, leaning way over to stretch it to its full length, several feet long, like a ray of gleaming moonlight, and curled the very tip into a little swirl to dry. Runaan’s hands held his hips so he didn’t topple over.

Ethari returned to hover over Runaan and reached for another long lock. “Moon and shadow, you have a lot of hair, Runaan.”

Runaan kept his hands firmly on Ethari. “You say that like I didn’t know.”

Ethari eyed the thick white mass of hair waiting to be spread and dried. He chuckled. “I’m really not sure you do.”

Ethari spread Runaan’s hair across the warm dark rock with delicate care, moving slowly and deliberately, leaving a small swirling curl at the end of every lock. Knowing that Runaan was enjoying the view from below with every move he made. The assassin’s hands never left him, always touching his hips, his shoulder, his cheek. Softly pressing the pad of his thumb against Ethari’s lips for a kiss. Other than his hands, Runaan lay perfectly still beneath him, letting him work, reveling in his precision. Humming now and again as Ethari freed a lock of hair from the damp pile and tugged it straight. Watching Ethari’s muscles flex and move beneath his dark skin as he leaned and worked and smiled down at Runaan.

Finally, Runaan’s long white hair lay spread around his head like a great white aurora, as if the moon itself was rising behind him. The first section Ethari had laid out was already nearly dry.

Ethari settled gently atop Runaan’s waist and sighed with deep satisfaction at the beautiful work he’d done, all the more lovely for its fleeting existence. When Runaan rose, the illusion of the rising moon would vanish, and only the curls dried into the ends of Runaan’s hair would remain.

Runaan gazed up at him, his long black lashes suspiciously damp. His hands found Ethari’s hips again and rested there, a warm, comforting weight. “Ethari… the way you move, the way you see things, see my hair… You’re beautiful.”

Ethari’s brows raised. Softly, “I thought that was my line.”

Runaan’s eyes were so wide, the blue pools of his soul so deep, Ethari thought he might fall off that cliff again and drown anyway.

_Fall with me, indeed._

“Never tell an assassin how to value the life in his hands.” Runaan eased the darkness from his words with a comforting squeeze of those long-fingered hands against Ethari’s hips.

Filled with trembling tingles, Ethari leaned forward, easing his hand under Runaan’s drying hair before putting his weight on it. “You really see me, don’t you?”

Runaan’s warm hand shifted to caress Ethari’s cheek. “I do.”

“And you think I’m beautiful?”

Runaan’s voice dropped into velvet certainty. “I do.”

Ethari’s heart threw itself off the cliff.

“Stay still,” he said, somehow remembering how to speak at all, “until your hair is dry.” His other hand caressed Runaan’s bare shoulder, warm and gleaming in the sun.

Runaan’s hand found his. Intertwined their fingers. His eyes blazed up at Ethari, and a gentle smile graced his full lips. “I do believe you’re going to need to make me.”

Ethari collapsed into helpless, delighted laughter and pressed a row of kisses along Runaan’s forehead, down the moon-kissed bridge of his nose, and finally against his soft lips. ‘I’ll do my best,” he murmured into Runaan’s mouth.

Shifting his weight, Ethari sprawled across Runaan and let out a deep sigh, nuzzling against Runaan’s neck. His hands traced their way down Runaan’s arms and captured his hands, tucking them around his own back. One hand found its way under Runaan’s hair and cupped the back of his neck, stroking his skin softly with delicate fingers.

Runaan inhaled sharply, but his breath released in a slow, soothing sigh of relaxation. “Mmmm, I surrender, Ethari,” he murmured.

“Don’t worry, Runaan. I have you.”

Runaan’s breath caught in his chest, a breath half taken, lifting Ethari’s head. His heart sped up beneath Ethari’s ear. Those strong arms pulled tight around Ethari’s back. “I know."


	3. At the Bedpost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan spoke through a smile. “If you’re going to be that gentle, Ethari, there’s no need for me to hold onto the bedpost.”
> 
> Ethari responded with a hard backward tug on the corset lacings, and Runaan instinctively gripped the carved bedpost with both hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two migraines in the last week, fam. I need to sleep for like three days straight. On the upside, this update happened. Enjoy.

Ethari guided Runaan's hands to the bedpost and pressed his callused fingers around its intricate white carvings. "Hold on tight."

“You really don’t need to do this.” Runaan’s voice was nearly liquid with contented exhaustion after a night of dancing and celebrating with Ethari at the Blue Moon Festival. “I can manage.”

Ethari’s strong fingers trailed back along Runaan’s arms and found the tight lacing that ran up the back of his formal corset vest. Its deep teal was brightly accented by soft turquoise swoops that highlighted Runaan’s height and physique in a way Ethari found most alluring. He hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off Runaan all night. “Don’t take it as an insult to your flexibility, Runaan. I know you’re tired. I just want to help. And I know how tight these things are. I’m wearing one, too.”

Runaan let out a lilting hum of interest despite his sore feet. “And you look delicious in it.”

“Overt compliments? You _are_ tired,” Ethari murmured.

“Better tuck me in, then.”

“Oh, I will. As soon as I get you unwrapped.”

“Am I a present?”

“Definitely.” Ethari adjusted Runaan’s ponytail until it hung heavy across his far shoulder. He shifted to stand at Runaan’s side as his hand traced the line of laces until it reached the bottom and released the knot in the corset strings. His other hand reached around and pressed firmly against Runaan’s abdomen, holding the corset in place and snugging the tall assassin’s shoulder tightly against Ethari’s chest. His fingers weaved their way into the lacings and began, very slowly, very deliberately, to loosen them from the bottom up.

Runaan spoke through a smile. “If you’re going to be that gentle, Ethari, there’s no need for me to hold onto the bedpost.”

Ethari responded with a hard backward tug on the corset lacings, and Runaan instinctively gripped the carved bedpost with both hands. Ethari grinned as he felt Runaan’s abs tighten beneath his hand and heard his grunt of pleased surprise. Ethari dropped a soft kiss on Runaan’s shoulder, through the lightweight green shirt he wore beneath the vest. “That’s better.”

“Was that really necessary?” Runaan’s voice was low, testing. Holding every option.

Ethari leaned so close to Runaan’s ear that his lips brushed its warm pink shell. He jerked on the next lacing cross, making Runaan grunt and hold tight again. “What did you say?” he murmured.

Runaan’s grin broadened. “_Nnhh_, nothing.”

Ethari’s fingers slid inside the loosened lacings and eased beneath the lower edge of Runaan’s shirt, finding the heated skin of his lower back. “Nothing? Are you sure?”

Runaan’s breath caught softly, but Ethari heard it and grinned. Pulled Runaan’s hip against him in a soft embrace.

His lips found Runaan’s ear again and hummed in gentle contentment. “Tell me, Runaan.”

Runaan’s fingers firmed around the bedpost. His breath blew out softly as he centered, as if he was preparing for a sparring session. “Unlace me, Ethari. Just like that.”

“Your wish is my command.” Ethari’s fingers began to take their slow, deliberate time, easing the lacings loose one cross at a time, then jerking hard, pulling Runaan back against his hold on the bedpost. Ethari kept his arm loosely around Runaan’s waist, eager to feel his every move, his every breath. Every single tremble.

He took a minute to even out the loose lacings, soothing his warm fingertips up under Runaan’s shirt, smoothing away any tenderness from his yanking. “Eager to get out of your constraints, are you? Didn’t you enjoy dancing with me this evening?”

Runaan hummed softly at Ethari’s evocative touch. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the white wood. “I enjoyed it very much. You’re a very skilled dancer, and I love watching you twirl.”

Ethari’s fingers drew soothing runes against Runaan’s skin. “Oh, yes? What’s your favorite part about my twirling?”

Runaan spoke with his eyes shut, lips nearly brushing the bedpost. “I love the way your smile keeps coming back around to find me.”

Runaan’s soft response caught Ethari off guard, and his fingers hesitated. He dropped another soft kiss against Runaan’s shoulder. “You saying things like that makes me want to slow this down.”

Runaan’s chest shivered with low laughter. “Don’t you dare.”

“Hmm. Challenge accepted.” Ethari found the next cross in the lacings and yanked hard, bucking Runaan backward. Runaan pulled himself back toward the bedpost, but Ethari’s fingers were already loosening the next bit of lacing, and he yanked again before Runaan was ready.

His hands nearly slipped off the bedpost. “Ahh, Ethari, you’re making me—_ahh_!”

Ethari tugged hard again. It was so easy to pull Runaan around when he was being compliant. Tall, slender, and top-heavy, the assassin moved in a wide but predictable variety of ways. Ethari loved them all, every flex and twist of Runaan’s exquisitely fit body. Runaan didn’t usually let Ethari maneuver him like this, either, preferring to elude and tease, or to do the moving himself.

Only once in a blue moon.

What a treat.

Ethari tugged harder, forcing Runaan to cling tightly to the bedpost. His fingers found lacing after lacing, pulling them loose one after the other, working his way up the back of Runaan’s tight vest. He shifted his weight until he stood more behind Runaan, letting his fingers climb the ladder of those tight laces, working them free, yanking Runaan hard against him. As Ethari worked the laces loose, one by one, higher and higher, he heard Runaan’s breathing shift from amused to excited to a series of messy, uneven gasps.

“Mmm, sounds like you’re about done for.” Ethari reached for the collar of Runaan’s vest, where the lacing was still tight.

“You have no idea—_ahh_!”

Ethari tugged Runaan back from the bedpost, spun him around, grasped his wrists, and body checked him against the bedpost again, lifting Runaan’s hands and pinning them against the post behind his head. Together, they both held onto the bedpost for dear life.

Ethari found himself nose to nose with a blushing, flustered, wide-eyed assassin who seemed more likely to beg than threaten. Runaan’s cheeks were blazing a deep moonberry hue beneath his dark blue markings. His eyebrows rode soft and high, but his eyes glowed like molten gems, hot and radiant, and his chest heaved beneath his loosened vest, pressing against Ethari with every unsteady breath.

Runaan bit his lip, those cool, dazzling eyes lingering on Ethari’s mouth. Didn’t even try to pull his wrists free.

Ethari read Runaan’s unspoken request and very kindly obliged. His mouth took Runaan’s with a hot, urgent kiss. The assassin moaned against his tongue. Ethari eased a hand into Runaan’s hair and tangled his fingers in those long white locks. His other hand slipped free and began to release the vest’s front hooks, which were currently pressed between their bodies.

The hooks reluctantly popped free one by one, a hard clicking counterpoint to the soft gasps that found their way past Runaan’s lips. Finally, the last hook released, and Ethari peeled Runaan’s vest back off his muscular shoulders, dropping it carelessly to the floor. Ethari pulled him away from the bedpost with a hand on the back of his neck, urging him not to break their kiss. His other hand, and both of Runaan’s, fumbled at the closures on Runaan’s green shirt, and the elves danced in a slow, dizzy circle marked by eager moans and soft laughter, until the shirt fell and puddled atop the unlaced vest.

Ethari took Runaan by the waist and spun with him. Runaan instinctively clung to Ethari’s shoulders, locking eyes with him as they whirled, once, twice—and then Ethari let go.

Runaan landed hard atop the bedcovers with a loud whump that blew his ponytail out behind him. The sudden spin, fall, and landing caught him by surprise, and he laughed in excited delight, reaching up for Ethari.

Ethari had one knee up on the bed when he spotted the long fuchsia marks along Runaan’s bare skin. He paused, looking down in concern. “Runaan.”

“Hmm?” Runaan was busy trying to coax Ethari closer, catching his arm, planting little kisses against his fingers.

Ethari’s other hand found Runaan’s marked skin, though. Traced next to the purple line with such a gentle touch that he sensed Runaan more than he felt him. “You had me lace you too tightly. Look.”

Runaan’s eyes drifted from Ethari’s face to his own chest, then back up. “Did I?”

“You should’ve said it was too tight.”

“It wasn’t too tight. Besides, you said I looked good.”

“You did. But…” A hesitant finger traced the hard purple mark that arched down over Runaan’s ribs. “This looks like it actually hurts.” Ethari lifted his eyes to Runaan’s, all traces of his earlier toppiness fading. “I don’t want you hurt, Runaan. Never that.”

Runaan flexed up onto one elbow and caressed Ethari’s lavender-brier cheek, letting his eyes linger on the craftsman’s earnest features. “Let me decide what hurts and what doesn’t, Ethari. But if I’ve worried you, then I’m sorry.” He pressed a soft kiss against Ethari’s lips. “Truly.”

“Then you’re forgiven.” Ethari wasn’t quite done being in charge, though. He pushed Runaan down onto his back with both hands, looming over him with bright hair, glowing sunset eyes, powerful shoulders, and a soft but determined smile. “But you’ll have to make it up to me by lying very still while I kiss you better.”

An involuntary gasp of delighted anticipation parted Runaan’s lips. “Gladly.”

Ethari’s hands fondled their way across Runaan’s shoulders, reveling in his bound strength, gently skipping across hard fuchsia lines the corset had left in his lilac skin. “Hmm, something something willing spirits…”

“Are you saying my flesh is weak? _Nnnh_…” Runaan’s voice was a thirsty whisper. “Alright, I concede that point. But I _very_ much want to hold still for this.”

“Oh, I know you do.” Ethari’s lips dropped a delicate kiss atop the purple marks, moving with exquisite gentleness, a delicate, healing breath of adoration. Runaan’s hum of appreciation was tellingly wanton. “I just don’t think you’ll be able to.” Ethari’s lips began a migratory caress along the purpled skin, brushing its edges with his fingers, coaxing a softer flush into Runaan’s skin.

“_A-ah_, moon and _shadow_, Ethari…” Runaan’s far hand rose, fluttered, made a fist, and fell against his abdomen, which rose with unsteady breaths.

“Oh, yes, be loud, but no moving.”

“_Hggh_. Yes, Ethari.”

“Mmm, good boy.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I said loud, not rude. Don’t make me stop kissing you.” Ethari’s lips trailed across Runaan’s marked skin, then hesitated at the edge of his sculpted pec.

Runaan’s eyes widened as he glanced down at Ethari’s deliberate hesitation. “Beautiful, glorious Ethari, please, don’t stop kissing me.”

Ethari’s fingers danced across Runaan’s skin, finding a purpled line arching across his ribs and out across his abs. “Ooh, this looks painful. Let me help.” His warm breath ghosted across Runaan’s chest, shivering his skin with prickles and drawing delightedly desperate noises from Runaan’s throat, until Ethari’s lips landed like butterflies along the pressed ridge of flesh. His fingertips eased gentle curlicues around his kisses.

Runaan’s breath heaved like a bellows. “What… what happens if I can’t hold still?”

Ethari hummed a long kiss against Runaan’s rib as he decided on an answer. “I guess I’ll have to stop, won’t I?”

Runaan’s groan rose into a soft whine. “You’re making this very difficult.”

“You like it.”

“Only for you.”

“Better be only for me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Yes it is.”

“…Yes, it is.”

Ethari nodded judiciously. “That’s better.” His lips chased his feather-light fingers across Runaan’s skin, crossing that pale white scar, dancing across taut abdominal muscles that flexed hard under his loving touch. “I’m not tickling you, am I?”

“N-not ticklish,” Runaan panted.

“No?” Ethari’s tongue flicked out and drew a soft line along the edge of Runaan’s sharply defined abs. His lips found a hard corner of muscle crossed by a deep purple corseting line and dropped a hot kiss there, and his fingers paraded wide across Runaan’s chest, fluttering along his ribs, across his pecs, thumbing hard across a tight nipple, as his mouth sucked gently and released with a wet pop.

The assassin twitched hard, hands flexing helplessly. His horns dug into the blankets as he tossed his head, and one of his side tails splayed across his cheek. “Nnngh, _Ethari_.”

“You’re not holding very still, Runaan.”

Runaan’s reply was entirely composed of breathless gasps mixed with the odd whimper. His gaze clung to Ethari as the powerful craftsman loomed over him, lips wet, eyes hot, fingers gentle but insistent, the center of an aura of undeniable power, of irresistible magnetism. The source of all the heat in the room, all the air, all the _need_.

No. Not _all_ the need.

“Ethari, please,” Runaan’s voice was a strained prayer. “I _need_ to touch you. Please don’t tell me I can’t.”

Ethari’s hands came to rest along Runaan’s ribs, feeling his shuddering breaths. Runaan was near his breaking point, not just from physical need, but from emotional desire. The look in his eyes was beginning to spiral into uncontrolled fire, and Ethari couldn’t tell which of them it would consume first.

Ethari melted at the sight of his hard assassin teetering on the edge of control. “Hold me, then.” He took Runaan’s hands and pulled him into a sitting position, nestling himself in Runaan’s lap and wrapping those long arms around himself.

Runaan’s eyes slid shut in ecstatic relief. He pressed his palms hard against Ethari’s vest, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath it. His hands roamed Ethari’s broad back, caressed his powerful shoulders, traced the vest’s low neckline across his broad chest, and meandered down to his narrow waist, where they settled around his hips. Runaan rested his forehead against Ethari’s, leaning into him, breathing in his scent. “You are where my hands live.”

Ethari cupped Runaan’s face and breathed his name against his lips. “Runaan… You are where my heart lives.”

Runaan’s forest-pool eyes opened with soft surprise, and Ethari plunged right into them. His hands softly traced the dark fuchsia ridges across Runaan’s shoulders and followed them across the thick, powerful muscles of his back. “You really should’ve told me this was so tight.”

“You wouldn’t be sitting here like this if I had.” A sly glint flickered in the corner of Runaan’s eye.

Ethari’s eyes widened with a mixture of outrage and gentle concern. “You _did_ do this on purpose. You utter fool.” His sharp words were entirely softened by the delicate strokes of his fingers against Runaan’s back.

Runaan hummed deep in his chest, a meditative note of pleasure and satisfaction. “It’s not foolish if it works.”

“Yes, it is. Please don’t do this again.”

“If you ask it of me.”

“I _am_ asking.”

“Then I won’t.” Runaan’s fingers pressed into the corset vest. “I’ve found a flaw in my plan.”

“And what’s that?” Ethari murmured.

“I’m still not actually touching you.”

Ethari’s eyes flashed with a wicked grin. “Best hurry then.”

Runaan’s strong fingers strummed their way along the corset vest’s lacing, sending soft vibrations through Ethari’s chest as if he were a harp from which Runaan drew a familiar, sensual tune. “One does not simply hurry these laces,” the assassin murmured.

Ethari gave Runaan a sassy grin. “You can do better than that. I know what you keep under your pillow.”

Runaan’s eyes widened in extreme interest. “Challenge accepted.” He reached back across the bed, slid his hand under his pillow, and pulled out a gleaming dagger. He pulled Ethari hard against his bare chest and cupped the back of his neck with a firm, warm hand. His turquoise eyes blazed hot and steady. “Hold very still. I’ll have you out of that corset vest in no time.” Runaan lifted the blade, and Ethari felt it press lightly against the lacing at the base of his neck.

All thoughts of restringing the vest with new lacing evaporated in the heat of Runaan’s gaze. Ethari’s words came out more breathlessly than he intended. “You’d better. It’s rude to leave a present wrapped for too long.”

The dagger slashed its way down, and Ethari’s lacings popped free with a loud fabric rip. A moment later, the blade found itself buried an inch deep in the wooden bedpost, and Ethari found himself flat on his back with Runaan looming enticingly over him. The assassin’s warm, sure fingers released Ethari’s vest closures and found their way up under his shirt, skimming across his skin with teasing intent, trailing across ridged abdominal muscles and taut intercostals, pressing eagerly against Ethari’s sensitive spots, drawing heady gasps from his throat.

“Ahh, Runaan, you’re making me—_ahh_!”

Runaan settled atop Ethari’s hips, his dark horns silhouetted, eyes aglow. He leaned down and ghosted a kiss across Ethari’s lips. “Mmm, sounds like _you’re_ the one who’s about done for.”

Entirely breathless, eyes locked hard onto Runaan’s, bottom lip caught in his teeth, Ethari reached above his head and grasped the bedpost with both hands.


	4. Behind the Waterfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan is Very Pretty™ and Ethari literally can't handle it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has no dialogue at all because I wanted to play around with the focus on physical communication. Feel free to listen to the waterfall ambient sound video I linked below, and crank up the volume to get the right vibe while you read.

[waterfall](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qo3OM5sPUPM)

The haul of softly glowing blue crystals clinked together in Runaan’s pack as he caught Ethari by the wrist near the cave’s entrance. With the wild thundering of the waterfall outside, there was no other way to warn him to wait.

Ethari looked back, caution warring with confusion in his bright eyes. Runaan read his finely sculpted features—the impatience to be home, the worry for their freshly collected cave booty, and the _What now?_ that hinted at the tiniest, most adorable thread of jealousy that Runaan’s senses were more acute than his were.

Instead of trying to shout an explanation over the roaring falls, Runaan gently pressed Ethari against the damp, dark stone wall and slid past him. His hand squeezed Ethari’s shoulder protectively, but his eyes remained locked on the cave entrance. He unshouldered the bag of crystals and pressed them into Ethari’s arms without looking. He hadn’t heard anything, but he’d seen a shadow flash across the white water that plummeted into the pool below.

The cave they stood in was eighty feet up. Anything that could cast such a shadow was worth being wary of.

Runaan eased a foot onto the narrow ledge outside the cave entrance and studied the foaming curtain of water that fell just out of arm’s reach. Fierce, wet winds whipped at his side tails, soaking them with spray, and dusting his nose and cheeks with gleaming droplets. But no threat revealed itself—

Until a massive, taloned foot, longer than Runaan was tall, scrabbled for purchase through the blinding tumble of water. Runaan flung himself back into the cave to avoid the swipe from a talon as long as his leg. It stabbed at the narrow walkway and left a long gouge in the stone right where he’d been standing before vanishing back through the water.

Ethari steadied him with one hand, leaning around his shoulder to share a questioning look between Runaan and the ominous waterfall.

Runaan stared at their only exit. His face stilled to serious contemplation as he ran options. It was spring. The river was in full flood. The falls dropped well over a hundred feet, maybe two. And mountain rocs were known to be very territorial. Especially when they were fighting for dominance during spring mating rituals. The great predatory birds would battle for control of the waterfall and its pool, and the winner would decorate its banks with bright gifts in the hopes of coaxing a mate from the high cliffs. Any creature foolish enough to draw the eye of battling mountain rocs would regret it—briefly—before becoming one of those bright offerings lying at the edge of the waterfall pool. Probably not in one piece, either.

The water’s roar devoured any hope of verbal conversation. Ethari squeezed his arm, silently asking for a plan.

Runaan met his gaze, radiating love and concern from eyes as blue as the pool below them. Slowly, he shook his head. They weren’t leaving anytime soon.

Ethari lifted the flap on the crystal bag and gazed down at their bright blueish glow. Runaan squeezed his hand comfortingly. They had their collection. They just needed to bide their time until it was safe to leave. His bright eyes sought to reassure Ethari, and he stepped closer, his other hand reached up to caress Ethari’s cheek.

Ethari got distracted by the winking droplets that sprinkled Runaan’s cheeks, each catching soft gleams from beyond the cave’s entrance, making Runaan appear to be dusted with diamonds. It was gloriously distracting from their predicament. As the tall assassin looked down at him with soft affection, Ethari felt a mischievous smile blossom across his lips.

He fetched one glowing crystal out of their pack and held it out to the side of Runaan’s face, studying the way the blue light glimmered along the water that limned the assassin’s slender features. Ethari lowered the crystal, lighting Runaan’s jaw and the side of his neck.

Runaan shifted only his eyes, tracking the crystal as Ethari held. Then he found Ethari’s gaze again. Held it with an unspoken soft question.

In response, Ethari set down the heavy bag of crystals. With a smile, he stepped chest to chest with Runaan, held the blue crystal up for a work light, and gently drew soft swirls in the water drops across Runaan’s cheeks, leaving matte curlicues across his cheekbones and bringing a reluctant smile to Runaan’s lips.

His gaze warmed, and his hands found Ethari’s lavender-marked cheeks. A rueful chuckle vibrated through his cheekbones and into Ethari’s fingers. They both knew how Ethari could never resist the chance to make something pretty even prettier.

Heavy, rocky scrabbling noises came from outside the cave. Ethari instinctively reached for the bag of crystals to protect it, while Runaan’s instincts put him between Ethari and the entrance. A chest-shaking screech echoed into the cave, followed immediately by a second from the other mountain roc, as they beat at each other with their wings and scrambled for purchase along the face of the waterfall.

One massive wing slapped at the water as the birds dueled, and a heavy wave splattered into the cave, smacking Runaan in the back and drenching him. The look of wide-eyed outrage on his face was almost enough to make Ethari laugh, but he bore enough concern for Runaan’s safety that he settled for reassuring himself that Runaan was okay by a series of quick, gentle touches, to which Runaan nodded.

They couldn’t stay this close to the entrance—it wasn’t safe, and one of them could get hurt. Ethari settled the crystal bag over one shoulder and took Runaan’s hand in his, leading him deeper into the cave, holding that single crystal up for light.

The cave didn’t go much further, though. Not horizontally, anyway. The crystals grew down the sides of a great chasm not far from the entrance. Runaan had let Ethari lower him down on a rope to collect the crystals, and he knew very well that there wasn’t anywhere to take shelter down there. The cave jinked to the left just before the chasm, and a wide pocket of darkness offered plenty of respite from the shrieking, flailing birds, if not from the booming rush of the falls.

Ethari set the crystals down again. He let out a patient sigh, but he couldn’t hear it. The light of day barely filtered this far into the cave, but the sound of the waterfall seemed to shiver through the very stone itself.

Then he turned to Runaan, whose eyes were locked on the dim daylight outside. Ethari took out a few crystals and spread them in a loose circle around them both, then stood and reached for Runaan’s belt buckle. With sure fingers, he loosened it and helped Runaan out of his sopping tunic. A single press of his hands against Runaan’s shoulders told him Runaan’s high-necked blue overshirt was also soaked. He eased up against his husband, offering body warmth, as his fingers flew down the shirt’s closures.

Runaan peeled the wet shirt off and set it aside. Blue light danced along his shoulders and lit his fingers. His dark horns sparkled with blue-lit droplets. Light pooled in his hair and clung like liquid dust along his cheekbones. He looked as if all the light in his eyes had spilled out across the rest of him, leaving his eyes clear and colorless and drenching him in turquoise.

Ethari couldn’t breathe in the face of such otherworldly beauty.

Runaan took pity on him and pressed a smiling, warm kiss against his lips, jarring him out of his staring. Ethari’s hands slid along Runaan’s shoulders, enjoying their firm power and finding his shirt only slightly damp. Runaan’s hair, however, was still dripping.

Ethari pressed Runaan onto his knees and stepped behind him, taking handfuls of Runaan’s long white hair and squeezing out the water. Runaan sat still, chin high, and snaked one hand around Ethari’s leg, caressing him from knee to ankle.

Ethari loved it when Runaan did that. His hands spasmed on Runaan’s hair, accidentally tugging. In the blue light, Runaan twitched, stiffening his back. Ethari crouched behind him and leaned his chest against Runaan’s back, pressing against him and sharing his heat. Runaan turned his head, and Ethari pressed a kiss against his ear, ending with a soft nibble that sent another hard twitch through Runaan’s body. Ethari took Runaan’s ear in his teeth gently and hummed in soft delight. Runaan’s hand came up and cupped the back of Ethari’s neck, fondling his hair.

Ethari dropped a kiss against Runaan’s left horn, humming loudly enough that he could feel its vibrations over the roar of the waterfall. He let his hands roam across Runaan’s back and sides, checking for more water and finding nothing to be concerned about. Then—just to be thorough—he let his hands keep roaming, across Runaan’s abdomen, down his thighs, until the assassin began to press back into him with small, sensuous motions.

Runaan’s fingers pressed delicately along Ethari’s arms, drawing him in, and Ethari gladly obliged. he lowered his head and pressed a soft line of kisses along Runaan’s neckline, and Runaan tilted his head, exposing his throat for more. One of Ethari’s hands slid down Runaan’s back, dragging his fingertips along the thick cables of muscle that lined his spine. The other traced the front of his waist until it found the hard ridge of his abs and pressed its way upward, until his fingers found the cool skin of Runaan’s throat.

Runaan lifted his chin for Ethari and hummed in low delight against his palm. Ethari pressed one hand against Runaan’s lower back and traced the line of his jaw with his other fingers, finding his lips and pressing two of his finger pads there. Runaan let his eyes slide shut as he kissed and nipped at them.

Ethari’s fingers delicately lifted Runaan’s hair cuffs from his hair and set them aside. He knelt behind Runaan and snugged his thighs close against him, sharing as much warmth as possible. Then he began unraveling Runaan’s wet hair with slow deliberation, slicking as much water out of each thick strand as he could.

When it lay loose and only a little damp across Runaan’s shoulders, Ethari began gathering it in his hands—_so_ much hair—and twisting it into a loose, messy bun on the back of Runaan’s head. He needed something to secure it in place, though, or it would keep soaking into Runaan’s shirt and chill him in the already cold cave.

Runaan leaned over and reached into the crystal bag. He withdrew his hand and offered Ethari three long, slender bluish crystals over his shoulder. Ethari’s gasp of delight was lost in the waterfall’s roar, but his hands squeezed Runaan’s long hair in excitement. He pressed a hard kiss to the top of Runaan’s head as he accepted them. Securing the messy bun was quick work for a craftsman of his skill—and his familiarity with Runaan’s hair—but the effect was entrancing.

The natural crystal wands held Runaan’s hair in place, but they also lit its white strands with an ethereal blue glow of deep moonlight. Ethari’s hands tightened on Runaan’s shoulders as he drank in the glorious effect.

He eased forward, sliding his hands around Runaan’s waist, pulling the assassin back against him, settling Runaan’s horns on either side of his neck. The glow of the crystal hair wands danced up against his chin and lit every tiny motion of his arms.

Runaan’s breathing was swift and shallow. Ethari pressed a hand against his abdomen, delighting in the effect his tender attentions were having on Runaan.

Though the sound of rushing water filled Ethari’s ears, he felt Runaan’s abs tighten with a soft chuckle under his touch. The assassin pressed his shoulders back against Ethari, soaking up his body heat.

Ethari pressed a kiss against Runaan’s horn and let his hands roam across the broad expanse of Runaan’s muscled chest. A soft, wanton moan rumbled through Runaan’s thin shirt and into Ethari’s fingers. In response, Ethari slowed down, pressing more firmly across Runaan’s ribs, then letting his fingernails drag across the fabric.

Runaan gasped, and his sharp inhalation lifted Ethari’s hands atop his chest. Ethari let his fingers fondle their way along Runaan’s collarbones, then dragged his fingertips in search of Runaan’s tight nipples, teasing them and drawing sharp moans and whimpers from Runaan’s throat, before pressing warm, soothing palms over them and gently letting his fingers dance around the edges of Runaan’s pecs.

Breathing very unsteadily, Runaan raised his arms and locked his fingers behind Ethari’s neck. With a rolling arch that pressed him back against Ethari’s body, he lifted his chin and offered his chest as a continued playground for Ethari’s hands.

Ethari grinned and chuckled, knowing Runaan could feel it through his shoulders. Very gently, he lowered his head and took one of Runaan’s horns in his teeth, growling against it. His hands danced and teased across Runaan’s chest, finding the hard ridges of his abs, teasing along his ribs, pressing hard in a sensual caress, digging his fingertips to make Runaan flex and twitch.

Runaan did flex and twitch, reveling in the delightfully intense sensations that Ethari’s skilled hands gave him. His breathing was hot and swift, like his thoughts, and he no longer worried about being chilled in the cool, damp cave. If he didn’t know better, he’d have expected to see steam rising from his hair as it dried in the heat of his excitement.

He knew exactly what Ethari was up to, tantalizing and teasing him like this, raising his body temperature so he wouldn’t suffer from hypothermia. He also knew that when he got this warm, he wasn’t content to let Ethari do all the work.

Ethari’s skilled hands found Runaan’s throat, coaxing rumbling hums as they painted soft swirls across his skin. They danced into his hair and traced his ears, and Runaan gasped aloud, his voice lost in the thunder of the waterfall.

Ethari’s mouth found his ear point a moment later. His teeth nibbled it with exquisite softness, and his tongue lapped softly afterward, soothing away the gentle bite. The combination sent shivers rocketing down Runaan’s spine. Ethari nibbled his way along the top ridge of Runaan’s ear, leaving the assassin a quivering mess. Runaan’s hands clung hard to Ethari’s shoulders, his fingers delving beneath his purple scarf, knotting in his navy shirt, kneading at him like a purring cat.

There was no point in trying to keep silent, but the roar of the falls swallowed his ecstatic gasps, blending his pleasure with the force of its own rush. Ethari felt every sound Runaan made as it vibrated in his chest, along his throat, and against Ethari’s skin. Ethari’s entire body became an ear that thrilled at the vibrations of Runaan’s pleasure.

Runaan had gotten fully worked up, writhing with full-body reactions to Ethari’s every touch. Ethari pulled back and leaned down under Runaan’s horns, kissing his way along the collar of Runaan’s shirt, shuffling out from behind him, prowling around the assassin to deliver more of those kisses until—

Runaan felt Ethari shifting and let go of him, only to snatch him into his arms and drag him halfway across his lap. Before Ethari could even gasp for breath at being so suddenly claimed, Runaan’s mouth captured his. The assassin’s fingers sieved through Ethari’s hair and played with his lavender-marked ears, a dazzling counter-attack to his recent nibbling, leaving Ethari gasping against Runaan’s lips.

Not content with merely holding Ethari in his arms, Runaan kept leaning to the side until he and Ethari toppled over, with Ethari beneath him. Runaan slung a leg over him, straddling his waist. He reached for the crystal bag with a long arm, but he kept his smile aimed at Ethari’s face.

With swift, steady hands, Runaan set the remaining crystals in an arch around Ethari’s head, then he folded the empty bag and made a pillow to keep Ethari’s horns from rubbing on the stone floor. Every crystal he placed only drenched him in more light, and that smile that lurked in the corners of his lips told Ethari that Runaan knew exactly what he was doing.

Runaan sat tall astride Ethari, hands on Ethari’s waist, chin high, shoulders back, drenched in crystalline blue light that painted him like a moon god. He tilted his horns with a knowing smile and reached up to adjust one of the thin crystal wands in his hair, letting the light wash across his throat, his ear, his flexing triceps. Ethari’s hands found Runaan’s thighs and clung there with reckless delight, and then he bucked his hips beneath Runaan’s to try to disrupt his perfect posturing.

Runaan merely pinned Ethari’s hips back to the floor with his hands and gave him a look that clearly said _Nice try_.

Ethari squirmed eagerly against Runaan’s weight and got absolutely nowhere. As he settled back against the makeshift pillow, Runaan drew his purple scarf away from his neck and began to set it aside. Ethari caught his wrist and lifted the soft fabric away, then reached up and draped it around Runaan’s neck to keep him warm.

Runaan’s eyes, hard with intensity, softened in an instant. His lips parted with a smile, as if he were about to say something.

Ethari smirked and tugged hard on both ends of the scarf, pulling Runaan inexorably downward. The assassin caught himself on both hands, leaning over Ethari. But Ethari just wound the scarf around his hands and pulled again.

Runaan pretended to resist, but his grin was a mile wide.

Ethari drew Runaan’s head down until their lips nearly touched. Runaan bit his lip hard and growled deep in his chest.

Its vibrations struck Ethari and shivered his very heart. His mouth fell open, and he breathed in Runaan’s warmth, tasted him on the air. His eyes lifted from that bitten lip to Runaan’s gemstone gaze. He pulled one last time on the scarf, hands full of softness.

Runaan let his lip slip free of his teeth as his mouth met Ethari’s, and he nibbled Ethari’s lower lip instead. Ethari arched his chest up against Runaan’s, and his hands clenched harder in the scarf. Runaan slid one hand behind Ethari’s neck, lifting him to meet Runaan’s hot kiss. Their mouths moved in sync, eager hums and moans vibrating through their bones, the sounds lost in the thrumming of the waterfall’s roar.

Runaan’s mouth tasted Ethari’s thoroughly, lavishing his tongue with attention, then trailing eager nibbles down the lavender mark that arced along the side of his throat. His hands traced Ethari’s powerful shoulders, teasing along his ribs and up under the edges of his cropped shirt, across his taut belly. He took fistfuls of Ethari’s shirt and bodily lifted him a bare inch, bringing his collarbone to Runaan’s lips in midair, where he nibbled on it with delicate bites and soothed the skin with a soft, hot tongue. Ethari’s helpless whimpers were lost in the roar of the falls, but Runaan could feel every one of them through those hot, deliberate touches of his.

Ethari’s head pounded with the hot rush of his pulse, and the blue crystal light that ringed Runaan throbbed in the corners of his eyes like a mirage. The engulfing flood of the waterfall’s power shook the very stone beneath him and vibrated in his chest. Runaan’s kisses soaked into his skin, and his skillful hands refused to let Ethari catch his breath.

Too much. Not quite enough, yet it was too much. Ethari let out a soft cry of abandon and reached for Runaan, caressing his shoulders, tangling his fingers in Runaan’s messy white bun, wrapping one leg around his waist and drawing him down until their bodies lay pressed together. He buried his face against Runaan’s neck and gasped for breath, shaking and whimpering with overstimulation.

Runaan rolled them both onto their sides and carefully took Ethari’s face in his hands. The bright blue light washed away the lavender of Ethari’s cheek markings, leaving them pale against his dark skin. The crystals’ glow winked off unshed tears pooling in Ethari’s eyes, and Runaan’s widened with chagrin. Softly, he smoothed Ethari’s hair back from his forehead and wiped those tears away with a callused thumb. Then he kissed Ethari gently, on the forehead, on the lips, a soft apology, and softly scooped him up, cradling his muscled shoulders against his chest, holding him with infinite care.

Runaan sat with his back against the dark stone wall of the cave, cuddling Ethari close, feeling his breath heave hard and fast against Runaan’s chest. Gradually, slowly, Ethari’s trembling began to ease. Runaan smoothed his hair with a gentle, sure hand. Pressed a soft hum against his ear. Left an encouraging kiss on Ethari’s horn. All while trying not to touch him _too_ much, lest he keep Ethari in that overstimulated state.

Ethari covered his face with his hands and felt the hot huff of his own breath against his palms. That, and Runaan’s arms gently supporting him. The soft rise and fall of Runaan’s chest against his shoulder.

Then, the gentle weight of Runaan’s cheek against his horn.

No pressure, no demands. Just Runaan, present, loving him in the moment, in whatever way he could. In whatever way Ethari needed.

He snuggled closer. Runaan’s fingertips soothingly brushed against his shoulder.

The waterfall thundered on.

Ethari shifted, stretching an arm around Runaan’s neck.

Runaan left a soft kiss on his cheek.

More breaths. Slower.

Ethari turned toward Runaan, face still buried in his neck, pressing close for reassurance.

Runaan held him gently. Hummed against his hair.

The mountain rocs wild screams suddenly rang through the air, faintly in the distance. Their battle for dominance was still ongoing, and the elves wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

Runaan didn’t so much as twitch at the sudden battle screeches, he was so focused on Ethari. So relaxed. So in the moment.

Ethari glanced up at him. The bright glow from the crystal wands lit Runaan’s hair from within. Yet he still smelled exactly the same—the cool spice of shadowy forests, warm pine and dusken oak.

His Runaan. Never changing, a constant flood, like the waterfall. Unrestrained within his course, a deep pool to plunge into and be lost.

Runaan took a full breath, and his chest filled, lifting Ethari and pressing him into Runaan’s embrace.

Lost? No, not lost. Buoyed up.

Saved.

Ethari sat up and settled into Runaan’s lap. His hands softly began to explore Runaan’s shoulders, his face. A delicate kiss atop his nose stripes.

Runaan rested his hands on Ethari’s hips and let him set the pace.

Slowly, with delicate kisses and gentle touches and soft breaths that ghosted across Runaan’s skin, Ethari invited Runaan to dance with him again.

The mountain rocs could have the waterfall. All Ethari wanted were those endlessly deep pools in Runaan’s eyes.


	5. In the Recovery Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan cares for Ethari while he recovers from an injury.

“Runaan?” Ethari’s hand automatically reached out in the darkness. But it fell on empty space, on sheets long since cold.

And the angle… Ethari turned his head in the dark. He was sitting up, propped on a stack of soft pillows. Pain began to blossom behind his eyes, and his ears were full of a strange ringing, as if he were sensing a crowd full of Moonshadows on repeat.

His hand tightened on the unfamiliar sheets. This wasn’t even his bed.

It wasn’t dark, either. Something was wrapped protectively around his eyes, letting no light in. He felt at it with his other hand and encountered soft bandages.

Ethari tensed, and the pain in his head skyrocketed. Something bad had happened, and he was going to feel pretty grumpy about it when he remembered what it was. He raised his voice. “Runaan?”

“I’m here.” Runaan’s hand gave Ethari’s foot a reassuring squeeze, and a gust of Runaan-scented air wafted past Ethari’s nose, indicating the assassin had hurried in from somewhere and come to a sudden stop by his feet.

With food. Something smelled delicious. But Ethari had other priorities.

“Two questions,” Ethari began, tilting his face up toward Runaan’s voice. “What happened, and where am I?”

A silent pause was interrupted by the soft clinks of two dishes being set on a wooden surface beside him. Ethari jumped as Runaan took his hand, and he flailed for his husband’s arm, seeking comfort as well as Runaan’s position.

Runaan sat on the edge of the bed, and he took Ethari’s other hand as well. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I guess you’d better keep your hands on me so you know where I am.”

“Or you could, you know, make noise for once,” Ethari sassed.

Runaan spoke through a loving smile. “Ha, you’re funny when you’re concussed.”

“Concussed?”

“Lightly. The healers are more worried about your eyes. That flash was incredibly bright, and the Fulminis spell didn’t do the rest of you any favors, either. You need absolute darkness and plenty of quiet to let your systems settle. I’m staying here at the healing house with you to make sure you get it.” Runaan squeezed Ethari’s hands gently.

“Rayla?”

Runaan’s voice softened, reassuring him. “She’s with friends. They’re taking good care of her. I just want to focus on you and what you need.”

Ethari nodded gingerly. “Did I… Did I hurt anyone?”

Runaan ghosted one hand up Ethari’s arm and cupped his cheek, staying in contact so he didn’t startle Ethari a second time. “This wasn’t your fault, and no one else was hurt. Everything is being taken care of. Including you, by me. Do you hear me?”

Reluctantly, Ethari relaxed, feeling tension draining out of his shoulders. He leaned into Runaan’s hand. “Yes, Runaan.”

Runaan’s hand dropped to Ethari’s shoulder and squeezed. “That’s what I like to hear. Now. I brought you something to eat. Are you hungry?”

“A little. My head really hurts.”

“I brought something for that, too. The healers gave me a potion for you, but I thought you might enjoy it better with a little honey and a strawberry than drinking it straight.”

Ethari hummed softly in interest. “That does sound better, yes.”

One of the dishes on the table next to Ethari’s bed slid off the edge as Runaan shifted toward it from the edge of the bed. “All right, then. Open up. And stick your tongue out in case I drop any of this honey.”

Ethari’s brows rose under the bandages. Runaan, drop something? The idea was nearly unthinkable. But he did as instructed and pushed his tongue out a little.

Runaan’s soft chuckle was all the warning he had before his husband’s warm tongue lapped across his own, ending in a warm, firm kiss that made Ethari gasp and hum delightedly. Runaan gently rested his forehead against Ethari’s temple and murmured in his ear. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. You’re too precious. Here. The strawberry this time, I promise.”

As he pulled back, Ethari let out a soft mumble of dissatisfaction. “_Fine_, the strawberry. But I found that kiss very therapeutic, and I want that information recorded in my chart.” Then he opened his mouth again, trying not to grin too widely even though his head hurt something fierce.

A cool strawberry slathered in honey rested gently on his tongue, pooling its tangy sweetness, and he quickly closed his mouth around it, capturing one of Runaan’s fingertips before he could pull away. Ethari took hold of Runaan’s wrist and gave his fingertip a thorough lick. Runaan let out a soft whuff of amused interest and allowed Ethari to place a soft kiss against his fingertip before letting him go and eating his medicinal fruit like the good patient he was.

Runaan scooped up Ethari’s hands again and kissed them both. “I’m glad you’re still with me, Ethari. When they told me what had happened, how they found you…”

Ethari felt the potent herbs begin to seep into his system, dulling the pain in his head. He squeezed Runaan’s hands tightly. “I’m so sorry, my shade. That must have been awful.”

Runaan slid his hands up along Ethari’s arms until he cupped both sides of his jaw. He pressed a light kiss to each of Ethari’s cheeks, then to his nose, and finally against his lips. “We both know which of us is supposed to die first. It’s against the rules for you to jump the line like that. I forbid it, now and forever.”

Swimming in a black sea of heady drugs and sweet kisses, Ethari could only cling to Runaan’s wrists and smile. “You’re too soft to let me go. That’s what you’re saying.”

Runaan pressed the softest of kisses against Ethari’s forehead, atop the bandages. “That is what I’m saying. I’m too soft to lose you, and I always will be.”

Ethari felt Runaan’s tension in the shivering breaths he puffed against Ethari’s cheek. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll be more careful.”

“Please. _Please_ be careful. Your talents are beautiful and amazing, but… but I _need_ you, Ethari. Please don’t leave me.”

Ethari heard the faintest tremble in Runaan’s voice and felt a cold shiver plummet down his spine. Runaan truly had been afraid for Ethari’s life. Ethari traced Runaan’s arms until he could hold his cheeks and bring his face close. “Never. Never ever. I promise.”

The long, sweet kiss that followed felt exactly like the one they’d shared the night of their vows.

And then Ethari’s tummy growled.

Runaan broke the kiss with a smile. “Oh. You _are_ hungry. Good.”

Ethari grinned. “You just want to feed me what you brought. What is it? It smells good.”

“I call it autumn soup.”

“You actually put cinnamon in it? And…” Ethari sniffed appreciatively, “…cloves? Who are you, and what have you done with my spice-averse husband?”

Runaan chuckled, and the second bowl on the table slid free with a tiny porcelain noise. “Well, I wasn’t planning to eat any, so I made it exactly the way you like it. Plenty of flavor and spice. If this doesn’t cure you, nothing will.”

“Promises, promises. Let’s see what you made. Metaphorically speaking.” Ethari rested a hand against Runaan’s wrist, opened wide again, and murmured an expectant _ahh_.

Runaan sighed as if bracing for bad news, but he spooned up a bite of something warm, sweet, and spicy and let Ethari guide it into his mouth. The flavor hit Ethari like a series of little fireworks in the darkness: Part pumpkin, part apple, with high notes of cherry and lemon rind, as well as crunchy chopped pecans, this concoction of Runaan’s was fit for Winter’s Turn itself. Ethari’s hand tightened around Runaan’s wrist in pleased surprise. “You made this?”

“I… I did. Is it all right?”

Ethari tsked apologetically. “I’m afraid I’m going to need another sample to be certain.”

Runaan’s soft exhalation of relief told Ethari that he’d said exactly the right thing. “It’s not too much?” he asked as he scooped up another bite.

Ethari guided the spoon in the general direction of his own mouth. “Too much what?” he asked, just before opening wide.

“Cinnamon? Clove? Runaan?”

Ethari snorted around his soup, and a dribble escaped through his laughter and ran down his chin. Runaan didn’t miss a beat, though, capturing it with the spoon and tucking it back where it belonged. Ethari made quick work of it before he laughed it out onto his lap. “I should’ve known,” he said when he could speak again.

“Known what?” Runaan asked fondly.

“That any soup made by an assassin is danger soup.”

“Wh- _Danger_ soup?” Runaan’s voice rose in mock outrage. “I ought to shoot you for that _entirely_ uncalled-for comment.”

“Mmm. Promise? You know I can never have too much Runaan, right?” Ethari let go of Runaan’s wrist and reached further, finding his shirt near his waist and tugging. “C’mere.”

The bowl immediately slid back onto the wooden table. “I don’t want to hurt you. Is it a good idea for me to…?”

“Only one way to find out. Now, scoot.” Ethari pulled insistently, reaching for his favorite landmarks on Runaan’s person, settling the tall assassin astride his lap. Runaan eased down with infinite care, as if afraid of squishing Ethari though he’d sat in his lap like this a thousand times before. Ethari’s hands rested comfortably, at home on Runaan’s hips, and he grinned widely, blindly, toward Runaan’s face. “There we go. Right where you belong, Shadebaby,” he sassed his husband.

Ethari felt Runaan shake with silent laughter. The assassin’s weight shifted. “You’re still too far away, Ethari.” Runaan’s hands gently pulled Ethari forward from his stack of pillows and cradled him against his chest, holding his head with a delicate hand and pressing his ear against Runaan’s heart.

Ethari slid his arms around Runaan’s waist and held on tightly. His chest tightened, and his heart overflowed, pricking the corners of his eyes with happy tears. They soaked right into his bandages, and he didn’t care at all.

Runaan pressed a soft kiss to Ethari’s horn. “I’m not leaving until you feel better, Ethari. I’m never leaving you again.”

Ethari breathed in Runaan’s familiar, intoxicating scent and felt the secure embrace of his husband’s loving arms. “I’m already better.”

Runaan’s murmur was a velvet promise. “Well, now I’m definitely staying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this migraine lasted almost two days! I couldn't manage anything spicy this time, everything hurt too much and I was just exhausted. I kept imagining softness and cuddles instead. So I'm coming out the far end and I finally managed to write this. One good thing out of the last two days, I guess. Enjoy.


	6. Beside the Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan's up to his usual overly intense shenanigans--this time over Rayla--and Ethari must disentangle him from his own guilt as well as from an equally painful physical problem. Hurt/comfort ensues.

“I need your help, Ethari.”

Something in Runaan’s tone, a tightness that constrained his soft, low voice to a rough nudge against Ethari’s ears instead of its usual velvet caress, made Ethari’s hands freeze in place. He glanced down at little Rayla, finally asleep in her blankets beside the embers of their campfire.

Safe and warm. At peace. Finally. His heart eased, just for a moment, before he lifted his gaze to Runaan.

The assassin sat on the edge of a sturdy boulder across the remains of the fire. Low sunset light from the dying embers painted him in unfamiliar warm tones, washing his blue markings to purple and his long white hair to golden flame. The upward angle of the light also shadowed pools around his eyes and brows, coloring him with a pained expression. His right hand twitched toward his shirt fastenings, as if he wanted to act but needed more than two hands for the job.

Ethari’s eyes followed the impulse of Runaan’s fingers before rising to his face. “Runaan. What’s wrong?”

Runaan took a slow breath and looked aside.

Ethari’s stomach dropped. Embarrassment? From Runaan? Never a good sign. He tucked Rayla in just a little more securely, then rose on silent feet and padded around the fire. He rested a gentle hand on Runaan’s bare arm, felt his husband’s tension, an odd heat in his skin.

“You’re hurt,” Ethari murmured. “From rescuing Rayla from the lake? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Runaan’s crystal turquoise gaze returned then, blazing in the dimness with a healthy amount of sass. “She was already upset, Ethari.”

Ethari’s other hand rested on Runaan’s other shoulder, and he stepped closer, subtly searching for the source of Runaan’s discomfort. “You saved her. If it cost you, shouldn’t she know how much her safety meant to you?”

Runaan’s brows lifted into sudden softness. The corners of his mouth drooped, and he looked away. Again.

Ethari’s eyes widened sharply. Somehow, Runaan blamed _himself_ for Rayla’s sudden fall from the rock, and for her subsequent panic in the deep water.

“Runaan,” he murmured, voice low and full of urgency, “you didn’t push her. You were twenty feet away. Why are you feeling like this?”

Runaan’s hand twitched toward his side, and he winced, still not meeting Ethari’s eyes.

Suddenly understanding, Ethari dropped to his knees in front of Runaan, fingers flying at the soft closures on his shirt. Somehow, Runaan’s pain was tied to his guilt. “What did you do, you big idiot?” Ethari muttered. His stomach clenched with worry, but his hands were perfectly steady and sure, his long fingers delicate and swift.

Ethari released the last closure and pulled Runaan’s shirt open. The low orange firelight flooded his lilac skin, blending into a warm sunrise hue full of soft shadows that highlighted his powerful archer’s physique.

The light also fell across a slender, dark greenish band that wrapped around his chest, across his scars, looped once over his shoulder and crossed his heart. It pressed flush to his skin like a sticky piece of seaweed edged with long, curving spines the color of dying grass. Most of the spines dug deep into Runaan’s skin, clinging like a parasitic centipede, raising a dark purplish flush around each little wound.

“A clingweed?” Ethari froze in horrified shock for a moment, taking in the painful sight, processing Runaan’s high pain tolerance, and sketching a plan for getting this thing off of him. He looked up into Runaan’s eyes and read the tightness around them, indicating how much pain he was really in. “I can fix this,” Ethari said. He nodded decisively, kissed Runaan softly on the cheek, and stepped over to fetch a bottle of ointment and a soft leather roll of tools from his bag.

While Ethari set the bottle on the rock beside Runaan, then stepped back between his knees with the blue leather in his hands and knelt again, Runaan watched his every move. The assassin lowered his eyes and flushed. “Go on, say it.”

But Ethari wasn’t interested in embarrassing Runaan further. With a Moonshadow smirk, he lifted Runaan’s chin, met his gaze, and said, “I told you so. Didn’t I tell you? Lugging these tools everywhere would pay off eventually. And look, I’m about to be proven entirely right.”

Runaan’s brows lifted at the reprieve, and Ethari smiled at him, softly, broadly. He leaned close, still holding Runaan’s chin on two fingers, and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. Ethari leaned his forehead against Runaan’s, gingerly, not wanting to jostle him. “Let me help. I want to help.”

“Please,” Runaan breathed. “Your hands are so skilled. I know you’ll take good care of me.”

Ethari’s smile quirked into a smirk. “Now you’re just flirting.”

“Not _just_ flirting.”

Ethari heard that tightness in his voice again. “Hold still. This is going to take a while.”

Runaan’s only response was a soft grunt of agreement.

Ethari eased Runaan’s shirt off with gentle care and examined the full extent of the clingweed’s hold. It wrapped over Runaan’s shoulder and around his chest, digging in its spines every inch or so. And every breath Runaan took only drove it deeper into his skin. He cupped Runaan’s cheek with a warm hand, overcome by his beloved assassin’s pain. And his unnecessary bravery. But this was no time to chastise Runaan’s choices. He must’ve had a good reason for not speaking up earlier.

Ethari unrolled the leather tool case and flipped up the top flap, exposing a wide array of delicate metal tools, from pincers to tweezers to variously shaped carving tools.

“Whatever you need to do, Ethari. But if you can avoid engraving me with curlicues, that might be best.”

With mock outrage, Ethari met Runaan’s bright gaze. “I will draw my swirlies on whatever surface I choose, Runaan. You included.” But he only lifted out a couple pairs of tweezers and left the carving tips in their place. As his eyes studied where to begin freeing Runaan’s skin from the stabby little spines, Ethari traced soft curlicues atop Runaan’s shoulder with a free finger. “See, just like this. You’re my canvas if I say you are.”

“Yes, Ethari.” Some of Runaan’s usual velvet softness eased back into his voice and brushed against Ethari’s ears.

“That’s better. Now stay still. The way this thing has got you, any movement, any breathing, drives those spines deeper. So no matter what I do, you have to be still.” Ethari’s finger and thumb held one of his tweezers lightly, but the rest of his hand cupped Runaan’s cheek and made him meet his gaze. “Do you hear me?”

Runaan’s eyes flickered with a flash of heat. “I usually like it when you order me around like this.”

Ethari shot him a hot warning glance. But beneath his hand, Runaan was, in fact, holding perfectly still. “Keep up the sass, Runaan, and I’ll give you something to hold still about.”

Runaan’s hot breath puffed through his smile and kissed Ethari’s cheek. “Do you promise?”

Ethari glanced over his shoulder to where Rayla lay sound asleep. When he met Runaan’s eyes again, he murmured, “When we’re home, and you’re healed up. _And_ if you can keep from waking Rayla with your nonsense.” He found one end of the clingweed and reached for the first spine, right over Runaan’s heart.

“Fair and accepted,” Runaan murmured. “But if I have to hold still, then you need to lean in a little closer so I can lavish you with my nonsense—_ah_!”

The spine pulled free easily enough, but Runaan had been paying attention to Ethari’s lips instead of his hands. Both elves looked over at Rayla. She didn’t stir.

Ethari pressed a hot, sharp kiss against Runaan’s lips, both reward and warning. Without pulling away, he whispered, “I thought you were a big tough assassin. It’s no fun at all if you’re going to turn into a gasping mess this quickly.”

Runaan shot him a heated look. “I… wasn’t ready.”

“That’s a first. Are you ready now?” Ethari’s grin slid into his words as he spoke against Runaan’s lips. “Just relax. I’m going to get things moving. It’ll feel a lot better if you don’t try to resist.”

Runaan coughed in blushing surprise, then winced from the ring of pain his sudden motion caused. “You are a naughty elf.”

Ethari shot him a sassy look, full of love and heat. “That’s one of my perks.”

“And _that’s_ a bold assumption.”

“It’s not an assumption at all. You keep coming back for more of me.” Ethari’s skilled hands began easing the clingweed’s spines out of Runaan’s skin. He snapped each one off and set them in a small pile.

Despite the row of tiny agonies that Ethari drew across his chest, Runaan smiled. His hands slowly eased forward and rested on Ethari’s waist, his touch reassuring and bonding. “I always need more of you, Ethari.”

“I told you to hold still.” Ethari plucked a dagger from inside Runaan’s boot and sliced off a foot of clingweed, now freed from Runaan’s skin.

Runaan raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I was there for that part.”

“And yet here you are, moving around.”

“Not the important parts. I just want to touch you.”

Ethari shifted position to kneel next to Runaan on the rock as he began working on the clingweed that tracked across Runaan’s right shoulder and down across his back toward the scar on his left side. He dropped a kiss atop Runaan’s bare shoulder. “Every part of you is important.”

“That particular spot on my shoulder, for example?”

“Yes.” Ethari’s hands moved with delicate precision, easing spines from Runaan’s skin, working his way around to Runaan’s back, slicing off another section of the clingweed. “Does it hurt less to breathe now?”

Runaan took a breath. “A little. It’s still got me around the ribs.”

Ethari leaned in and pressed a slow, warm kiss to Runaan’s ear point.

Runaan stiffened in surprise for a moment before relaxing against Ethari’s sweet affection. “That exact part of my ear, too, hmm?”

“Yes. My favorite part.”

“Is it?”

“Except for this one.” Ethari left a soft smooch right next to the previous spot he’d kissed. He felt Runaan exhale sharply through a smile.

“You’re too good to me, Ethari.”

“You’re probably right.” Ethari freed another length of the clingweed and sliced it free, leaving only a double trail of purple marks across the back of Runaan’s shoulders. “Raise your arm for me, and I’ll get this off your side.”

Runaan gingerly complied, holding onto his left horn for stability. Ethari lay down behind him to get closer to his work, but he curled protectively around Runaan as he did so, offering him warmth and that precious contact he knew Runaan craved.

“Is she still asleep?” he asked.

Runaan looked over. “Yes. Out like the new Moon.”

Ethari’s fingers soothed the delicate, damaged skin that pulled taut across Runaan’s flexing intercostals. “Tell me what happened, Runaan.”

Runaan’s gaze fell on Ethari with soft, raised brows, leaving the assassin looking oddly vulnerable despite his muscular pose. “What do you mean?”

“You could’ve said something about this clingweed an hour ago, but you chose to let yourself hurt. You only do that when you feel guilty. Tell me, what is it you think you’ve done to deserve this?”

Runaan’s mouth softened and fell open, and Ethari had to fight the urge to sweep him into his arms and kiss away that look of shame. Had to fight it _hard_.

“It’s my fault.” Runaan’s voice was a bare whisper.

“What is?”

“I got distracted under the water. I didn’t see Rayla fall in.”

“Runaan, you saved her.”

“I could have saved her sooner.”

“Not _that_ much sooner.” Ethari scooted around Runaan and sat right at his side, letting his right leg snug tight around the curve of Runaan’s ass. His skillful hands worked their way across the scar that marked Runaan’s ribs, lifting spines from pale tissue that felt no more pain. Unlike Runaan’s heart at the moment. “I’d only made it waist deep from the shore before you had her. What aren’t you telling me?”

Runaan looked away again.

Ethari took both sets of tweezers in one hand and used his free hand to clasp Runaan’s chin and force him to meet his eyes. “Runaan, stop. You can’t keep these kinds of secrets from me.”

In response, Runaan closed his eyes. Shut Ethari away from their glorious turquoise fire. Hid everything in the darkness, away from Ethari.

Ethari’s hands stilled. Somehow, he’d pushed too far. Runaan was drawing away from him. A desperate panic set in somewhere deep in Ethari’s chest at the thought of Runaan not trusting him—pulling away—but he chased after it, grabbed it by the tail, and dragged it back into the moonlight, seeing it for what it was.

An opportunity. Runaan felt vulnerable. Ethari needed to match that. He took his tweezers in hand again and bent to his task, gently easing those long, wicked spines from his husband’s skin.

“You’re right,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have demanded that of you. Tell me only what you’re comfortable with, Runaan. I never want to force you.”

Runaan’s right hand eased against Ethari’s back, rubbing softly. “You’re just going to let me get away with that, hmm? Just going to keep working on me?”

“Yes, I am. Because this is what I do. This is who I am. Your fears and guilt and stubborn-headed foolishness won’t change that.” Ethari kept his eyes on the clingweed as he spoke, letting his hands work. “I love you. And I’ll always help you, because I _can_. I’m good at this. Whether you’re happy or sad, hurting, angry, or keeping the biggest secret in the world, Runaan… I love you. And I never want to see you hurt. Not if I can help. I just want to help.”

Runaan’s voice was a velvet breath in the night. “Because you can.”

Ethari nodded crisply, eyes on his work. If he looked up now, he might see Runaan so vulnerable that he’d pull away even further. “Because I can.”

As Ethari freed the final long section of clingweed from across Runaan’s chest and set it aside, Runaan’s hand caressed his shoulder. “I was thinking of you.”

“Me?”

“Under the water. Of you, and… _not_ of Rayla.”

Ethari reached across his husband for the bottle of ointment, but his eyes rose to Runaan’s. “I’m not sure I follow you, Runaan.”

A spasm of anguish crossed Runaan’s features. His eyes squeezed shut and his lower lip trembled for a moment before he pressed his mouth shut. “It’s different now. Now that we have her. It’ll never be the same again. I just… I didn’t mean to…”

Ethari inhaled sharply as he finally understood what had driven Runaan to torture himself like this. His free hand captured Runaan’s face, and he pressed his forehead against Runaan’s, then slid in for a gentle, insistent kiss. “Runaan, Runaan, no, don’t do this to yourself.”

To Ethari’s surprise, Runaan let out a low laugh. “I just _did_ do this to myself.”

Ethari stopped his mouth with another kiss, cupping the back of his neck, refusing to let more of that train of thought off his lips. “Shh. Shh, now. You listen, and you hear me. We love Rayla, and we would die for her in a heartbeat. But there _is_ sacrifice here. We give her time that used to be for each other. There is no law that says you can’t think about how your life has changed, Runaan.”

Runaan studied his lap. “I shouldn’t, though.”

“You’re allowed.”

“It’s selfish.”

“And _that’s_ _allowed_,” Ethari reiterated. He set the bottle back down and settled right into Runaan’s lap. Runaan’s hands found their way to his hips from years of practice. Then Ethari took Runaan’s head in his hands and gazed softly into those gloriously bright eyes, now glimmering with a sheen of tears. His heart shivered at the thought of Runaan’s self-incrimination, and how it had driven him to keep his hurt a secret. Runaan’s guilt wrapped around Ethari’s heart and dug in with sharp spines. “That’s allowed,” he repeated.

Runaan shook his head within the bounds of Ethari’s hands, though, trying to look away again.

With a short sigh, Ethari opened the ointment and swiped a thick, clear swath onto his fingertip. With practiced care and a gentle touch, he eased the medicine against Runaan’s skin.

Runaan hissed softly, and Ethari looked up in concern. Runaan brushed the backs of his fingers against Ethari’s cheek. “Just cold.”

“I’m sorry it hurts.” The husky hush in Ethari’s voice told Runaan that he meant it both ways.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Ethari worked in silence for a little while, feeling Runaan’s breathing ease. The soft rise and fall of his chest slowed beneath the soothing sensation of the healing ointment. Beneath Ethari’s gentle fingers. Ethari scooped another fingerful of ointment and softly smoothed it across the top of Runaan’s shoulder. As he did so, he left a soft kiss on his neck.

“Mmm. That’s definitely helping.”

Ethari smiled against Runaan’s skin, and his fingers trailed onto Runaan’s back. “I’m soft enough to do whatever it takes.”

“Why I married you. We make a lovely pair of opposites.” That warm velvet tone was returning to Runaan’s voice, and Ethari’s smile widened.

Another kiss along Runaan’s neck, and Ethari eased more ointment along his skin. “You should try it sometime.”

“Being soft? I can be soft.”

Ethari hummed his words against Runaan’s jaw. “Not with yourself, you can’t.”

Runaan leaned against Ethari’s lips. “That’s not a downside.”

“_That’s_ just your opinion.”

“I am who I am, Ethari.” But Runaan’s voice was soft with regret.

“Okay, tough guy, let’s be hard about this.” Ethari kissed his cheek softly. “Did you push Rayla?”

Runaan twitched and glanced up at him. “What? No.”

“Good. And once you realized she’d fallen into the water, did you hesitate for even a moment to reach her and help her?”

“No, of course not.”

Ethari reluctantly shifted out of Runaan’s lap and knelt behind him in order to apply more ointment to the line of wounds across his back. “Did you chastise her once you got her to shore?”

“Ethari…”

“Did you set her down even once before she fell asleep?”

Runaan turned his head until Ethari could see his cheek glowing in the firelight. “Why are you asking me these questions?”

But Ethari wasn’t finished yet. “Did you interrupt her, ever, to tell her you had a clingweed under your shirt? Did you think about yourself for a single second once you had her in your arms?”

Runaan tipped his horns. “I know what I did, Ethari. I was there.”

“So was I. You held her for an hour, Runaan. And you were hurting the whole time.”

“I deserved that.”

“Rayla deserved _you_. And she _got_ you. You _know_ where your heart lies, Runaan.”

“Tell me, then.” Runaan’s voice was soft, hesitant. “Where does my heart lie?”

Ethari scooted back around Runaan again. He rested one leg across Runaan’s thighs and held his gaze. “You’re a Moonshadow. Your heart lies with us both.”

Runaan looked across the dying fire to where Rayla snuggled in her blankets. His bright gaze found Ethari again. “Is that… I didn’t know…” Something crumbled behind Runaan’s eyes. “I love you _both_, Ethari. I love you both so _much_—”

Ethari pulled Runaan into a hard embrace—mindful of his injuries—and let Runaan fall apart on his shoulder. He soothed his hands across Runaan’s back and felt the assassin’s shuddering breaths. “You waited too long, love. Look at you, spilling truths like an Earthblood who’s had too much spicewine. You waited too long, and it’s hurting you too much. But I’ve got you.”

Runaan’s hands slid up and clung in fists to the back of Ethari’s shirt. Ethari listened quietly as Runaan got his breathing back under control. When the assassin’s hands relaxed their grip and his chest stopped heaving, Ethari began gliding his own hands across Runaan’s skin. Runaan loved touching Ethari, but in this moment, he needed to receive that love himself. And Ethari was eager and attentive in giving it. “Shh, now. Shh. I’ve got you, Runaan. I’ve got you, and I’m never letting go.”


	7. Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan had a hard day at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When pain ice-picks your eye  
And you throw up and cry  
That's a migraine!
> 
> Now with extra spice because *fuck* this migraine, I want nakey elf husbands instead, God fucking dammit. #nofilter

Ethari heard only the heaving of his own breath and the pounding of his pulse in his ears. His skin danced and sang and his core burned with a cool white fire. But even now, he didn’t want to keep this moment to himself. His hands quested for Runaan, and tiny, needy sounds escaped his throat.

“Shhh, I’m not done with you yet.” His husband’s voice was liquid velvet in the dark.

Ethari writhed a little, impatient for more contact despite having just orbited the Moon itself under Runaan’s expert attentions, but he settled quickly as Runaan gently tended to him, stroking and cleaning and kissing and humming. Ethari couldn’t keep his eyes off of Runaan’s face. Those glorious turquoise eyes gleamed above him in the dimness. The low light of the nightglows by the door caught his cheekbones and the side of his nose with regal hints of light. Runaan’s lips, always deliciously plump, were swollen now from so many ardent kisses. Those disheveled white locks framed his face, and stray tendrils clung to the sweat of his skin and told the story of the past hour. Runaan’s quiet smile added an epilogue of soft contentment.

At least on Runaan’s part. “You’re too far away.” Ethari reached up and pulled Runaan down across him, rolling onto his side to face him and pinning him with a muscular leg across the assassin’s hip.

Runaan laughed softly and didn’t resist in the slightest. “Mmmm. I surrender.”

“As well you should.” Ethari inched closer, tucking his face against Runaan’s neck, and said against his skin, “You felt so good tonight. Every time. I think this is my favorite night with you.”

Runaan’s hand found Ethari’s hip and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You say that every night, my heart.”

“Mmm. It’s _true_ every night. Speaking of tonight… Is everything going to work out?”

Runaan traced his fingers along Ethari’s thigh. Their intense lovemaking session had been brewing all evening, and Ethari had been more than happy to help Runaan blow off some steam. But sometimes moondancing wasn’t enough to help Runaan focus again. “Yes, my light. There are some adjustments being made within the assassin corps, and I’m… juggling some new arrangements. They’ll take time to settle in, but everything will smooth out in a few days.”

“_Days_?” Ethari blurted, grinning. “Ooh, I’m gonna be so sore by then, I’ll have to work standing up.” He snickered against Runaan’s neck and offered a tiny nibble with his teeth.

Runaan laughed aloud and scooted flush against Ethari, skin to skin, wrapping his arms around Ethari’s broad back and squeezing. His murmur against Ethari’s ear was warm silk. “I’ll be gentle.”

“Don’t you dare, love. _Gentle_ won’t help you relax and we both know it.” Ethari rolled onto his back again, pulling Runaan with him. Their skin slid together warmly, still flushed with sweat and kisses. “Besides, you know I can take anything you care to offer.”

“Oh can you, now?” The assassin settled his head on Ethari’s shoulder and cocked a leg across his waist. His mouth found Ethari’s chest and dropped a line of slow, languorous kisses across Ethari’s magnificent pectoral muscle.

“_Mmmff_. Mercy,” Ethari murmured, trying not to twitch and failing.

Runaan smiled against Ethari’s dark skin. “That was fast. I wasn’t done yet. Barely even started. I’d planned my next strike and everything. It went something like this.” His tongue found Ethari’s nipple and worked it to a hard mound with ardent focus.

“_Hhhhgh_.” Ethari arched under Runaan’s mouth and pulled his husband into a firm embrace, forcing the sweet torture to stop for the moment. “Moon and shadow, you really are merciless.”

Runaan’s laughter was muffled against Ethari’s deep chest. But those dexterous fingers found Ethari’s sides and began to tease his ribs. Ethari wriggled away from the light tickling and flipped Runaan onto his back, sprawling across him and pinning his hands above his head.

“That is quite enough out of you, my good assassin. You _said_ you surrendered.” His lips nuzzled Runaan’s jaw, then his ear, drawing soft moans of delight from Runaan’s throat. “Are you going back on your word?” he murmured.

His question had the desired effect. Runaan stilled, held his breath for a moment, and then relented with a sigh. “No, I’d never do such a dishonorable thing. You should punish me as you see fit.”

Runaan always tensed a little when he said things like that, but tonight Ethari had no intention of accepting that invitation. “Punish you? Oh no, my shade. I’m going to _worship_ you.”

Runaan’s anticipatory gasp was cut off by Ethari’s kiss. It gently savored those swollen lips and tasted the sweetness of his tongue, which still carried Ethari’s own flavor from earlier in their evening. Runaan’s fingers flexed hard in Ethari’s grip against the sheets, and he leaned up into the kiss with an eager hum.

Ethari pressed him back against the bed with the kiss and brought one hand down, still holding Runaan’s, to drag a fingertip along Runaan’s jaw. “Hold. Still.”

Runaan’s response was breathless with anticipation. “Yes, Ethari.”

That kiss turned into lip nibbles, and wandered down into soft throat kisses, heartfelt and slow. Runaan moaned longingly against Ethari’s lips, and Ethari hummed in gentle reply. Runaan started laughing in the middle of his next moan, and Ethari joined him, nuzzling close and inhaling Runaan’s intoxicating scent. “Stop distracting me,” he chuckled.

“I can’t help it. You knew what you were getting when you married me,” Runaan replied warmly.

Ethari’s hand slid low and made firm, teasing contact between Runaan’s legs. “A handful?”

Runaan made a sudden sound of appreciation deep in his throat. “You’re making it harder.”

Ethari chuckled, fingers stroking. “The handful?”

Runaan hissed a delighted breath through his teeth. “To stay still.”

“I’m sure you can find the willpower, hmm?” Ethari rolled to the side and let his fingers trail along the smooth lines of Runaan’s chest, while still holding onto Runaan’s other hand above the assassin’s head. The low light gleamed along the curves of Runaan’s pecs, caught the ridges of his abdomen as he flexed under Ethari’s touch, and gleamed in his long hair as it shifted with each restless toss of his head. It limned his long legs and pooled in the hollow of his abdomen.

Ethari kissed them all. Everywhere the light touched him. Despite Ethari’s orders, Runaan couldn’t remain still under such devoted attentions, but he kept his responses soft and light, fluttering his fingers across Ethari’s shoulders or down his arms, brushing his hair from his eyes, rubbing the arch of his foot across Ethari’s calf. Never restricting his movements, letting him play across Runaan’s skin as he willed. It didn’t take long for Ethari’s soft attention to draw a rise in Runaan’s. The assassin’s breathing shallowed, and his skin dampened with the effort of restraining himself under his husband’s loving caresses.

“You’re so beautiful,” Ethari murmured against Runaan’s hip. “I could remind you of it for hours and hours.”

“_Hhhnnn_.” Runaan’s fingers found their way into Ethari’s hair, caressing, teasing his ear tips, barely holding back from guiding him a little to the left. He’d chosen to surrender, and he was determined to enjoy the fruits of that sacrifice however Ethari saw fit.

In his soft mercy, Ethari saw fit to hum and kiss his way a little to the left, and his teasing attentions made Runaan’s feet kick and slide against the sheets as he writhed in pleasure. He stuttered breathless gasps into the darkness as he clung to Ethari’s horns with sweaty palms. Ethari patiently worked him into a needy puddle and then lifted his head to say, “And you’re taking your surrender very well, too. Perhaps…”

“_Mmhh_?” Runaan’s voice was breathless, low and thick like the pulse that pounded in his ears.

“Perhaps you’d like a rematch?”

“_Hhhghh_, yes,” Runaan murmured, surging up from the sheets, reaching for Ethari.

With an easy laugh, Ethari pulled Runaan to him and felt the assassin’s heart thudding against his own. He spun and fell, landing on his back with his slender husband atop him. Between the white curtains of his loose side tails, Runaan found Ethari’s mouth and kissed him eagerly, then gradually slowed to a soft nibble on Ethari’s bottom lip.

“Gentle this time?” Runaan breathed. His hands were already sliding along the warm skin of Ethari’s thighs.

Ethari’s hips bucked as he remembered Runaan claiming he’d need several _days_ of stress relief. His fingers tangled in Runaan’s hair, holding him in place. “Mmmn, love, I’m nowhere near ready to surrender yet.”


	8. After Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan helps Ethari with a headache after a long day at the forge. Just sweet fluff for my migraine today, and a bit of poetry because Jonathan Holmes started it, and because I wanna.

Runaan padded down the stairs and adjusted his damp hair to spread more fully across his shoulders so it would dry faster. His shower had been longer and warmer than usual after a more intense training session, and now he felt soft and warm and utterly content.

His feet stilled as the silence of the tree house registered in his mind. The heavy metallic pounding from Ethari’s workshop had stopped at some point during his shower. A smile tugged at Runaan’s lips, and he went in search of his husband. Late work evenings for both of them led to less time together at the end of the day, but Runaan always looked forward to it. The way Ethari’s smile lit up at the sight of him always lifted his spirits no matter how tired he was, and he always had a long, tight hug for his stabby husband, which completely melted Runaan into a soft pile of sweetness against his shoulder.

He found Ethari in the kitchen with a cup of tea in his hand. At first glance, he seemed contemplative, with his other hand brushing across his eyes. But as Runaan approached, Ethari’s hand remained in place, pressing across his forehead. A small, tight frown tugged at his lips.

“What’s wrong, my light?” Runaan asked softly.

“_Mmfff_. Headache.” Ethari’s voice was low and raspy with pain.

Runaan’s eyes widened, and he scanned Ethari from head to toe, searching for details. Stance: hunched and protective. Shoulders: tight and high, carrying tension, increasing blood pressure. Not good for headaches. Eyes: hidden from the light. Jaw: clenched. Tea: mostly empty, but cooled. He hadn’t finished it, been standing, trapped in his pain, for a few minutes at least.

_I can fix this_, Runaan realized with a start. _This one thing. I can fix it._

“Let me help, Ethari. I’ve had my share of headaches.” Runaan eased forward and kept his voice low. He ran his fingers up Ethari’s arm to let him know where he was standing, and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Ethari turned toward him with a soft exhalation of relief. “Runaan. Pounded a little too long today, I guess. I can still hear the ring of the anvil in my ears.”

“Does the light hurt your eyes?”

“Mmhmm.” Ethari stepped closer and pressed his face against Runaan’s cheek.

Runaan rescued the tea from Ethari’s drifting hand and set it on the counter, while his other arm held Ethari close and smoothed a hand down his back. “Come with me, then. I know what will help.”

“Okay.”

Runaan threaded his fingers through Ethari’s. He cupped his husband’s cheek and kissed him softly. “Close your eyes and let me lead you upstairs.”

“Mm,” Ethari agreed. His eyes slid shut, and Runaan guided him out of the kitchen. He eased Ethari slowly up the stairs, letting him lean against him as much as he wanted.

“I’ve got you, my heart. Almost there.” Runaan pressed a single glowing mushroom alight at the bedroom doorway and guided Ethari across the floor. He gently halted him at the edge of the bed. “Here. Sit for a moment.” He eased Ethari down and reached for a nearby drawer.

Ethari kept his eyes shut, but he reached for Runaan, slipped his arms around his waist, and pressed his face against his chest. His fingers eagerly wove through Runaan’s thick, damp hair. “_Mmhhh_,” he protested softly. “Stay. You’re nice and warm.”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, I promise you that. Everything I need to take care of you is right here. But…” Runaan stretched out one arm and barely hooked the drawer knob with his finger. He slid it open and nabbed a soft bit of cloth with his fingertips, since Ethari’s powerful arms refused to let him lean over any further. “…Here we go,” he added, straightening again. “Let’s get this on you.”

Ethari peeked then, to see what Runaan was holding. His dark brows rose. “A blindfold? Now?”

Runaan chuckled. “Just for the darkness. I promise, love, I’m going to be soft and gentle and take every care with you. You need rest, not excitement. The blindfold will help, you’ll see.”

Ethari’s sigh was pained and resigned, but his arms tightened around Runaan’s waist, and he looked up at him with soft trust. “I do like it when I’m embraced by the shadows.”

Runaan smiled gently and pressed a light kiss against Ethari’s hair as he tied the dark blindfold around Ethari’s head. “Is it too tight?”

Ethari shook his head.

Runaan’s fingers tugged at the edges of the blindfold, smoothing it and centering it. “No light gaps?”

Ethari repeated his silent response.

“Good.” Another kiss fell atop Ethari’s gleaming hair. Runaan released the closure on his shirt and peeled it back off his shoulders, fully aware that Ethari could tell what he was doing. After draping it across the dresser, he pulled Ethari’s scarf free and then slid his fingers into the side vents on Ethari’s crop top and took hold of the soft fabric. “Now your turn.”

Ethari sucked in a breath and spoke through a warm smile. “Are you _absolutely sure_ this is rest and not excitement, love? It’s feeling a lot like excitement.”

Runaan couldn’t help grinning. “They’re very similar. But I happen to know that you find my skin very soothing when it’s pressed against yours. I’m only trying to give you what I know you enjoy.” His hands left Ethari’s shirt and cradled his head, running his fingers through Ethari’s wayward locks.

“Mmm, that’s nice, too,” Ethari murmured. With slow, deliberate movements, he tugged his own shirt off, careful not to dislodge his blindfold.

Runaan lifted it from his fingers and set it with his own shirt. He cupped his hands around Ethari’s cheeks and let his fingers slide gently down the sides of his neck. They came to rest atop his broad, powerful shoulders, which were radiant with warmth but still tense from his long day at work. With a turn of his head, Runaan let his hair drape across the front of his shoulder, and he leaned down again, letting the cool bright hair fall against Ethari’s chest in a thick waterfall that smelled freshly of his shampoo.

Ethari made a soft sound of longing deep in his throat and bunched Runaan’s hair in his hands, inhaling its deep woodsy scent with a long breath.

Runaan kept running his fingers soothingly through Ethari’s hair. “There, see? Just what you needed—_ah!_”

Ethari pulled Runaan into a crushing hug and toppled back onto the bed with him, burying his face against Runaan’s neck. Runaan’s damp hair spilled everywhere, drowning them both in cool moonlight and the smell of the deepest woods. Runaan gently tried to lift himself free, but Ethari wouldn’t let go, so he settled in with a smiling sigh.

They lay together, breathing in unison, holding each other softly. Runaan pressed a kiss against Ethari’s temple with each exhalation they shared.

Ethari’s hands finally loosened, and they began caressing Runaan’s skin, across his shoulders, down his back, along his arms. Tracing the dark cobalt marks along his arms with perfect recall, even though he couldn’t see them. Ethari knew every inch of Runaan by heart. Runaan hummed appreciatively at Ethari’s gentle precision, and that prompted Ethari to seek Runaan’s lips with his own.

Their kiss began softly, but it swiftly built from gentle to urgent. Runaan worried for Ethari’s headache, so he broke the kiss and began, “Ethari—”

At the same moment, Ethari grimaced and groaned. “Aah, Runaan, I see what you mean now. Excitement is not good for this headache.”

Runaan offered a last soft kiss that turned into a smiling hum. “Come, let’s get you sitting up and resting, my heart. I promise, we can find a nice balance. We always do.”

As Runaan sat up and off of Ethari, his husband held up a hand, and Runaan pulled him up into a sitting position, too. In a few moments, Runaan had shifted all the pillows on the bed into one pile, and he drew Ethari with him as he settled against them into a comfortable seated position. He spread his knees, and Ethari scooted close and eased his back against Runaan’s chest. He tucked his horns over Runaan’s left shoulder, resting his weight warmly against Runaan with a deep sigh. Runaan wrapped his arms around Ethari’s shoulders and pressed a kiss against his hair again, and Ethari’s hands found Runaan’s, tangling their fingers together and clinging with a tightness borne of need and pain.

Runaan let him squeeze as tightly as he needed to, and when Ethari’s grip relaxed, Runaan pulled his loose hair across the front of Ethari’s shoulder. The damp hair brushed invitingly against Ethari’s bare chest and brought Runaan’s scent to his nose again. Ethari’s free hand lifted and stroked it, letting it fall against his skin with trailing softness.

“I’ll never need to grow my hair long,” Ethari murmured, letting his hand slide loosely along Runaan’s hair. “I can just borrow yours like this anytime I want to know what it feels like.”

“Mmm. My hair is yours for the fondling, anytime you need it,” Runaan responded smilingly.

Ethari chuckled lightly and pressed himself back against Runaan’s chest. “This blindfold is helping, but it’s also making me appreciate your voice more than ever. Will you read to me, Runaan?”

“Of course, my light. What would you like me to read?”

“You choose. I just want to hear your voice.”

Runaan encircled Ethari’s shoulders in another firm hug and pressed his lips against his temple for a long, heartfelt kiss. “I know just the thing.”

He stretched a hand toward the little bookshelf Ethari had built into the wall for him and pulled down a slender, well-used tome. As Ethari took a deep breath and sighed in happy anticipation, Runaan held the book on Ethari’s lap and flipped through the pages with slow deliberation. He knew the poem he sought—had it memorized, in fact—but he kept his pace slow and steady, turning the pages softly, his every action aimed at soothing his husband.

Then he found it. “Here we go. Ready?”

“Mmhmm.” Ethari’s voice was soft and high, pliant with anticipation.

Runaan couldn’t help but smile and press one more kiss against Ethari’s hair before he began to read.

_“Let me not to the marriage of true minds_

_Admit impediments. Love is not love_

_Which alters when it alteration finds,_

_Or bends with the remover to remove:_

_O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,_

_That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;_

_It is the star to every wandering bark,_

_Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken._

_Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks_

_Within his bending sickle's compass come;_

_Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,_

_But bears it out even to the edge of doom._

_ If this be error and upon me proved,_

_ I never writ, nor no man ever loved.”_

Ethari sighed deeply and snuggled against Runaan. “It’s so beautiful. I love the part about love being the star to every wandering bark.”

“Me too. Though I think of you as my moon rather than a star,” Runaan murmured. He folded the book shut over one bookmarking finger and gently cupped Ethari’s cheek, turning his face up for a slow, soft kiss. Runaan dropped delicate kisses across Ethari’s cheeks too, and then along his forehead at the top of the blindfold, before letting out a soft sigh of deep contentment and softly pressing their foreheads together. “I’d be lost without you, Ethari, and I think we both know it.”

Ethari made a soft and needy sound deep in his chest. “You’re terribly romantic for an assassin, Runaan. Are you sure your favorite part isn’t that bit about the edge of doom?” he murmured.

“I like that part, too. If I ever find myself there, be assured, my heart, that I’ll carry you there with me.”

“You won’t have to, Runaan. I’ll march right in there with you.”

Runaan spoke against Ethari’s hair. “Mmm, don’t you dare. I need you safe. _Shh,_ now. No harsh thoughts. Shall I read you another?”

“…Yes. Please.”

Runaan propped one knee up alongside Ethari’s ribs, and Ethari wrapped an arm around it and gave his knee a kiss. The poetry book rested atop Ethari’s other thigh, and Runaan held its pages open with one hand and cradled Ethari against him as he read another poem, and another, and another. Ethari’s responses grew softer and quieter, until he drifted off to sleep, held warm and safe in Runaan’s embrace.

As the gentle sounds of Ethari’s sleepy breaths filled the quiet space, Runaan took a moment to surrender to his softest feelings. Loving tears pricked at his eyes, and a bright, radiant warmth beamed from the deepest and most shadowy recesses of his heart. With the softest of kisses against Ethari’s hair, Runaan whispered, “Rest well, my darling heart. I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's Shakespeare's Sonnet 116, which I adore.


End file.
